Are We Having Fun Yet?
by Houddy
Summary: This story is loosely based on a spoiler for the Dec 2nd ep, so I won't get into any details here, other than to say it's Huddy, and deals with the aftermath of their kiss.I'll put a synopsis in the first chapter for those interested.
1. Chapter 1

**SYNOPSIS:** This story is based on the spoiler that Cuddy will move into House's office in the Dec 2nd ep. Other than the moving in together, nothing is based on any further spoilers. Instead it's my version of how this would happen, and also deals with the aftermath of the kiss. It may get smutty, but I'm not sure yet, so I've put a mature rating, just in case (because I know my own tendancy toward smut and figured it was inevidable).

Well, here we go...

**CHAPTER ONE**

Dr. Gregory House sat at his desk, Led Zeppelin blaring out of the small speakers attached to his iPod, his eyes closed. No one who passed by would know it, but he was working on a case.

Sixteen year old girl suffering from aphasia, which House believed was just a teenage rebellion against her insufferably suffocating parents and a rash which Cameron had described, when she tried to convince her former boss to take the case, as a sort of blossoming rose shape, but which House thought looked more like week old road kill on a backwoods country road. Probably possum, perhaps groundhog, it didn't matter so much as the fact that the rash had, in the day and a half Carly Peterson had been a patient at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, grown to cover over two thirds of her curiously underdeveloped body and itched so badly she was drawing blood.

House was too deep in thought to notice the familiar face that popped into his office. "Bite?" James Wilson asked casually.

"Name five things that would cause stunted growth." House didn't open his eyes. He felt he was on to something.

"You think that's a symptom?" Wilson was always fascinated at how his friend's mind worked. Even after ten years working with the man, House's mental processes often mystified him.

"I checked her birth records. They're not lying about her age."

"You checked?" Wilson emphasized the first word with a smirk.

"I made 13 check. Focus on something important." House corrected.

"Fetal alcohol syndrome?" Wilson said the first thing that came to his mind.

"Oh, come on," House finally opened his eyes and glared at his friend. "You can do better than that."

Wilson floundered, trying to think of something House wouldn't have already come up with. That was a tall order. "Congenital hypothyroidism," he started with something easy, just to get the mental juices flowing. It seemed to work. "Amniotic Band Syndrome, Achondroplasia, Rubella, anticonvulsants, Varicella…"

"Those are birth defects," House said with frustration. "She was growing just fine a year ago then she just stopped. I'm not looking for a birth defect."

"You didn't say that." Wilson sighed. He wouldn't come up with anything House hadn't already thought of. It was nearly 7PM and House was still at the hospital. Clearly he'd been pouring over this case. "Buy me a drink and you can go on verbally abusing me until you find an answer."

"Buy me two drinks and I won't tell everyone at the bar that you still sleep with your Wooby."

"I don't!"

"They don't know that." House shoved all the papers on his desk into his backpack and grabbed his coat. He grinned at Wilson as he pushed past him and headed out the door.

Pete's was crowded. It was a Friday night. House smirked as he saw his old team, lined up at the bar. Wilson mistook this smirk for nostalgia. Drs. Foreman, Chase and Cameron were the first team House really clicked with. They were the only three young Fellows driven enough, or perhaps stupid enough to stick with him for the requisite three years.

"Who are you calling?" Wilson tried to peer over his friend's shoulder to see what number he'd dialed but House shushed him and hurried into a hidden corner. Less than a minute later, Chase jumped out of his seat, made his apologies and hurried out. House dialed another number while Wilson watched, slowly putting the pieces together when he saw Cameron grab her coat, apologize for leaving Foreman on his own, and hurry out into the chilly November air.

"Oh look. Two seats just opened up." House tossed his phone jauntily into his pocket and walked over to Foreman and the two empty seats. Wilson followed, shaking his head with respectful awe. "You're my hero."

"Buy your hero a drink." House said, banging on the bar and ordering a neat scotch, and not the generic crap. The good stuff Pete kept under the counter.

Pete obligingly poured House his usual and Wilson a gin and tonic per his request. He took Wilson's money happily and made change.

"You paged them, didn't you?" Foreman was slowly working on his second bottle of Sam Adams.

"I was going to page you, but I realized that, once they figure out it was a false alarm, they can go home and copulate whereas you'd just come back here and bitch me out."

"Yeah, well…" Foreman faded off as he drained his bottle, put it hard on the solid oak bar and walked out. He saw enough of that ass at work, he didn't need to spend his few precious hours off hanging out with Gregory House.

"That went well," Wilson snided.

"Perfectly." House propped his leg up on the spare stool before some idiot in a thee piece tried to sit down next to him.

"You talked to Cuddy yet?" Wilson had a habit of jumping right in with his intrusive questions. There was no foreplay, no gentle coddling before hand. It was right down to the dirty deed with Dr. James Wilson, wonder boy oncologist.

"You might want to work on your slow buildup." House dodged the question, but his answer came through loud and clear.

"She's still avoiding you?" Wilson furrowed his brow. It wasn't good that his two friends weren't speaking. It meant he had to become the messenger in their work dealings, and he did not like being the messenger when it came to chastising House about his work ethic. He had, however, gained newfound respect for their boss, Dr. Lisa Cuddy and what she had to deal with having House as an employee.

"The nurses have started putting up the Christmas decorations." House decided to carry on his own conversation while Wilson continued his.

"You're avoiding my question." It wasn't a question this time. It was an observation by amature psychologist Dr. James Wilson. House was his best test subject.

"And yet you keep asking them." House shook his head with wonder. Someday, maybe, Wilson would learn to mind his own business. House kicked himself for secretly hoping that day never came.

"I'm plucky like that." Wilson grinned.

"We kissed, she tried to talk to me about it, and I blew her off. Now she's blowing me off." House frowned as the words took on a double meaning. "And not in the good way."

"Have you tried to talk to her?"

House's body fell a little. "You were supposed to jump on the innuendo thing, talk about getting off."

"Sorry, dropped my script." Wilson pretended to bend over to pick something up, but stopped about half a second into it.

"What would I say to her? Sorry I kissed you?"

"Are you sorry?" Wilson couldn't help himself; he was born to butt in.

House stared at his glass. He wasn't sorry. He wasn't sure what he was. He wasn't even sure why he'd kissed her. She just looked so hurt, so lost, and he wanted to say so many things to her, things that got caught in his throat, that refused to escape his lips, things that would have changed them. He couldn't do it. He liked them. He liked the battles, the war, he liked the longing and the way she could affect his groin simply by bending over in a certain skirt, or wearing a bra just a little too dark for her blouse. He liked the foreplay. He didn't want things to change. At least not until he knew which way that change would take them.

"House?" Wilson waved a refilled scotch in front of his distant friend. As House reached out for it, Wilson pulled it away. He knew House would curse him for it, but sometimes he just had to push the right buttons. "Are you going to talk to her?"

"No," House snapped, snatching the drink out of Wilson's hand and licking up the bit that spilled on his hand.

"House…" Wilson was about to give a lecture, but House's insistence that he didn't need a lecture right now shut him up. They drank in silence, two quiet, contemplative men in a sea of loud, drunken revelers.

An hour passed, then another. House was gazing into the amber liquid of his lost count long ago drink. Wilson was shoving his way back from the men's room. "Want a lift home?" Wilson finally made it to the bar, his hair tussled by some drunken nurse who wanted him to play doctor with her in the back room, his tie pulled loose by a co-ed who wanted him to teach her a lesson. Wilson had that effect on women sometimes. It was his boyish charm, and his inability to say no to a damsel in distress, even if that distress was nothing more than a case of horniness.

"What took you so long?" House looked at his friend, amused.

Wilson cleared his through self-consciously. "Do I have lipstick on my face?" He had opted against returning to the men's room to check, fearing he would just get reaccosted on his way back.

"Lots." House snickered.

"I didn't…She was really strong," Wilson was practicing his apology.

"Am I supposed to get jealous now?" House grimaced.

"Do you want a ride or not?" Wilson had wiped the Bashful Blush lipstick off his cheeks and the tip of his nose and tossed the napkin on the bar top.

"Are you going to bring up the C word again?" House studied Wilson's face, looking for hints of a lie.

"Yeah." Wilson was too buzzed to lie.

"I'll pass." House ordered a last drink. It was almost last call and he wanted to make sure he got one more in before the end of the night.

Wilson watched as House split in two. One House was leaning a bit farther back than the other and they were both pretty blurry around the edges. His nice buzz had just shifted into drunkenness. "Can I hitch a ride with you then?"

House laughed. When he was buzzed he had a hearty, full bodied laugh. It was a nice, but rarely heard sound. "When are you going to learn to hold your liquor?"

"When you finally tell Cuddy how you really feel about her." Wilson replied, too drunk to know not to say it out loud.

"Good luck getting home." House reached into Wilson's pocket, took out his car keys and headed for the door.

"House?" Wilson called after him, unsure what had just happened, but aware that it was probably bad.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

The rain poured down on her windshield as Lisa Cuddy turned left into the non-descript half full parking lot of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. It was a task she had done so many times, she could allow her mind to think of other things, usually the checklist of tasks she had to complete that day.

Today's list included a meeting with a potential donor looking to support new innovative cancer studies at the hospital that had been so kind to her husband in his last weeks. She had an arbitration meeting with the Service Employees Union reps to discuss her recent reprimand of Carl Hastings and his habit of wondering the hospital in scrubs and impersonating a doctor. She didn't expect that meeting to last long. It was pretty open and shut.

She needed to talk to Wilson about House's clinic duty. She'd asked him a week ago to make sure House was getting in his three hours a week. Wilson had been avoiding her ever since, which made her think he hadn't talked to House, or if he had, House had ignored him much the same way he was ignoring his clinic duty. If this kept up, she was going to have to talk to House herself. And she really didn't want to do that yet.

She glanced up at the glass and brick façade of the hospital. It was an impressive structure, the main building having been added on to several times as more money to expand became available, usually through her tireless pursuit of wealthy donors.

This was her hospital, her baby. She put her blood, sweat and tears into making it the best hospital in the state, and one of the top teaching hospitals in the country. She had been head of the hospital for almost ten years now. The thought made her smile a small, sad little smile. She was proud of her hospital, but it was really all she had. Where had the time gone?

She remembered how excited she'd been when she first got the job. She raced home to tell her boyfriend. She thought the man she was going to marry would be thrilled for her, but he turned out to be the man who couldn't handle the fact that she was about to make more money than him. He was now the state district attorney, but she still made more money than he did. She couldn't help but smile as she thought of the alimony he was paying his former stay at home trophy wife.

The smile faded as she thought of the family she had planned with him. She was young, beautiful, successful and in love. Her life was perfect. So why, ten years later, was she lonely and miserable? Where had it all gone wrong?

A decade had passed since she had her perfect life all plotted out. Sometimes she was happy that her life had taken a different path. She was highly regarded in her field, respected by her employees, at least by those who didn't work for or weren't named House. She had friends, well, acquaintances really, business acquaintances mostly. Now that she thought about it, House was probably her closest friend. That was an even more depressing thought than the loss of the dream family she'd never had.

She sighed. She couldn't think about it now. She was at the hospital, her hospital, her baby. This was her world now and it was her job to protect it and nurture it and make Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital the best medical facility she could. It was her legacy.

In her mental wonderings she hadn't noticed her body auto-piloting its way through the sliding glass doors that barred Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital from the outside world. She was barely aware of the intermittent greetings as she hurried across the busy main hall to her office.

"Dr. Cuddy?" Nurse Brenda Previn, head nurse and one of the first people Cuddy hired when she took over as head of the hospital came rushing over. Cuddy had her hand on the doorknob of her office, eager to get inside and spend a few quiet moments trying to shake off her thoughts but if Brenda was this anxious, it must be important.

"What is it Brenda?" Cuddy hid her agitation as well as she could. It wasn't Brenda's fault she was in such a foul mood this morning.

"If GSM doesn't get their check today they are refusing to deliver the new C-Arm unit you ordered."

"Is the unit here?" Cuddy took the special check from Brenda's hand and placed it on the closest flat surface, in this case her assistant Linda's desk. Linda watched with disinterest, only hoping her boss would leave her work space soon, as her online mate was blinking away at her on Instant Messenger and she needed to respond.

"Yes, it's here, but they've been instructed not to take it off the truck until they get this check." Brenda watched as Cuddy swirled a bold C before scribbling out the rest of her last name in a series of expertly unintelligible bumps.

"I spoke with Bill yesterday…" Cuddy shook off her protest before she could finish. It wasn't important. The check was signed, the C-Arm would be delivered and installed, and she now knew not to trust Bill Novich's empty promises. Lesson learned.

Brenda turned and headed back toward the loading dock to oversee the delivery of the C-Arm. It wasn't, strictly speaking, her job, and Dr. Cuddy hadn't exactly asked her to do it, but this hospital was as much Brenda's baby as it was Cuddy's, and the seasoned nurse liked to have her hand in as much of the pie as she could. Cuddy appreciated Brenda's dedication and attention to detail. It took many a load off her mind.

Cuddy was actually feeling a little better about her day now, knowing that she was not the only guard standing vigil at the hospital's gates. She was not the only spinster dedicating her life to the care of strangers. She wasn't alone.

That warm and fuzzy feeling of realizing her life maybe wasn't so bad after all went away quickly when she pulled open her office door and saw…nothing.

Her briefcase dropped to the floor as she bellowed her secretary's name. "Linda!"

Linda Nugent hurried from around her desk and stopped short at the office door. "Where is everything?" She looked around; a confused frown marred her smooth forehead.

"I was about to ask you that question." Cuddy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she hoped to see the oak desk it had taken her weeks to find, that perfectly matched the blinds that covered the window behind it, the Tiffany inspired lamps she'd collected over the years, the potted plant a grateful patient had sent her from her nursery in the corner and photo's of her family, her sister and the girls, her parents on their anniversary, them standing beside her when she graduated Med School and other various personal belongings that had accumulated over the years to make her office a home away from home. Instead, all she saw was a bare tan rug in an empty room.

It was not part of Linda's duties to come in and check on her boss's furniture. It was something neither of them had ever thought necessary. Now Linda was kicking herself for not being more diligent. "I didn't see anything out of the ordinary…" the young secretary began nervously.

"It's not your fault Linda," Cuddy said dismissively, her mind on other things. There was only one person she knew who could possibly be responsible for something like this. How he'd pulled it off was a mystery to her, but when Gregory House put his mind do something, no one could stop him.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Wilson stared in amazement. "I…I…" he couldn't speak. All he could do was blink with his mouth hanging open.

House waited patiently while his friend to processed what he was seeing.

"She's going to kill you!" Wilson finally regained his speech and managed to utter the words that had been teasing his tongue since he walked into House's office and saw a miniature recreation of Cuddy's office shoved up against House's own space.

"Probably, but now she won't be able to avoid me." House wasn't too worried about the death threat. Cuddy would never really kill him. If she were capable of it, she'd have accomplished the deed long ago.

"Does this mean I'm fired?" Wilson was somewhat bitter about the role of messenger that his two friends had put him in. Since they weren't speaking, he was left to run between them like the Wells Fargo Express. It was maddening, but it did have the benefit if his being kept in the loop, to an extent.

"I'm sure I can find you a new job." House smirked. He would always have a use for Wilson.

Wilson took a step toward Cuddy's desk and picked up the crystal paperweight he recognized from her real office. "You're attention to detail is impeccable." Everything was exactly as Cuddy had it, only less spread out, do to having all House's belongings occupying the same space.

House beamed proudly. It hadn't been easy. He'd had to bribe the weekend maintenance crew. Surprisingly, they didn't seem to like him any more than the weekday maintenance crew, and it took quite a bit of bribing to get them to do his dirty work. But in the end, when he'd stood back and admired his handy work, he felt it was worth it. This was quite possibly the greatest prank ever pulled at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, and that was saying something, since Gregory House had been working there for nearly nine years.

Wilson jumped when he heard the door open, nearly shattering the expensive paperweight as he hurried to put it back in place. House laughed, letting his friend know it was a false alarm. He turned to see not Cuddy glaring back, but Kutner looking slightly confused.

Kutner surveyed the room quickly. He knew it was different, and he knew what was different about it. He had no idea why, nor did he ask. He walked in and handed House a folder. "The tests we ran on Carly Peterson. Nothing is conclusive, but she seems to have a Bartholin's Cyst. It's benign and I don't think it's diagnostically relevant, but 13 thinks it might have lead to some kind of infection. I asked her what kind, but she said to come see you."

As House inspected the test results, Kutner looked around. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Cuddy's desk. It looked just like Cuddy's desk. And that was clearly a picture of Cuddy, probably with her parents, on graduation day. "Odd," he mumbled more to himself than anyone, but House was so eager to show off that he jumped on the barely audible statement.

"What's odd?" House handed back the folder.

"The cyst." Kutner had just had a thought. "It wasn't there when we ran our preliminary tests. I'm sure of it."

House's pager went off and he looked down at the number and smiled. It was the moment he'd been waiting for. "Yeah, that's great. Go talk to the rest of the team about it. Wilson, go with him." House was looking past his visitors, toward the glass doors that marked the entry to his office.

"Why do I…"

"Unless you want to be here when Cuddy comes in?" House was craning his neck trying to see around Wilson's big head.

Wilson pushed Kutner toward the side door that led to the diagnostics meeting room. House's was one of the only offices in the building that had an attached meeting room. It was something Wilson was occasionally envious of, but was also just another sign of Cuddy's favoritism of the world class diagnostician.

He used to believe her when she said it was because of House's unparalleled skills, that she showed him special favor, but since finding out about the kiss, he wasn't to sure what to think. All he knew at the moment was that he didn't want to be around for whatever fight his two friends and colleagues were about to get into.

He frowned slightly as he watched the blinds on House's side of the glass wall, snap shut. At least he would still be able to hear through the paper thin walls.

Cuddy strode briskly through the hospital corridors. She barely noticed as the new oncology nurse picked up the phone and began to dial not so stealthily, though, clearly, she was trying to be stealthy. Mandy Hahn was fresh out of nursing school and eager to work in the cancer ward. Cuddy didn't care for her much, but had left the hiring decision in Wilson's hands. She should have known better. Hahn was young, attractive and needy, Wilson's ideal mate.

Mandy was also easily bought, and in exchange for an introduction to a certain sexy member of his team, she was willingly acting spy for Dr. House. She had just paged him the warning that Cuddy was coming. She still giggled when she thought about the numbers he'd asked her to send as a warning. 80085. She studied Dr. Cuddy as she walked past. She did have very nice boobs.

"House!" Cuddy burst into the crowded office. "What the hell did you do?"

"Isn't it obvious?" House looked around. He thought it was pretty obvious, but then again, Cuddy wasn't always that bright.

Cuddy stumbled over her words. "Why are all my things in your office?"

"You can consider it OUR office. At least until the exterminator deals with the infestation in your office."

"What infestation?" She didn't like the sound of this at all. Nor did she like the strange glow coming from her most difficult employee.

"You're not going to believe this…" House began, stopping as Cuddy confirmed that he was right, she wasn't going to believe a word he said. "Over the weekend, it appears, your office became overrun by fire ants." He pretended to be shocked.

"Fire ants?"

House shrugged in response. "The exterminator said it will take about a week to get rid of them."

"And how do you know about this?" And why didn't she? Something was up, she just wasn't sure what. It couldn't be what she was thinking. Not even House was that bold.

"They said they tried calling you." He shrugged.

Cuddy wasn't as angry as she should have been. She wasn't as angry as she would have been had the perpetrator been anyone but Dr. Gregory House. Instead, a small part of her was jealous that he'd come up with something this outrageous when she never would have, and another part of her was impressed that the lazy diagnostician could actually pull it off.

He could see her weakening. He'd seen it many times before. She had a soft spot for him and he knew it, and worked it every chance he could. It might not be the most ethical thing to do, but with an opponent like Lisa Cuddy, he needed to use every weapon in his arsenal to keep her unbalanced. If he didn't, she might notice how unbalanced she made him.

"I told them you were probably having a weekend long shag and…" House ducked as a staple remover came whizzing past his head. "You could poke an eye out with that thing!"

"I'm not that lucky," Cuddy mumbled, her hand running slowly over the items on her desk. Everything was where she'd left it Friday night when she left work and headed to her empty house for her dinner alone.

"So, roomie, why don't you sit down and get some work done?" House grinned. He was leaning back in his chair, confident that she would do as he asked and yet startled when she did.

Cuddy sat in her chair, behind her desk, but instead of a view of the clinic she had a view of House's smug face. She fought the urge to jump over the two desks, placed head to head, and throttle him. Instead she picked up the phone and dialed the four digit extension for maintenance.

"This is Dr. Cuddy. I need my furniture moved from House's office to the empty office on the ground floor." She listened as Frank, the head of maintenance explained that the office in question was being repainted and wouldn't be ready for habitation for a few more days. "I didn't authorize that room to be repainted." She sighed with annoyance as he told her he had her signed request in his files. "What about the small conference room on two?" This time she listened to the story of a leaky pipe that had caused a flood in the small conference room that took up the far back left corner of the second floor. "Really?" She glared at House. "Let me know when you find a place to move my office." She hung up before Frank could mention that he thought she'd found a place, in Dr. House's office.

"Problems?" House looked innocently up from his comic book.

"I know that you forged my signature on the paint request, but please tell me you didn't tamper with the pipes in the ceiling."

"I didn't." It was true. He paid Sal the night watchman to do it for him. Ah commerce.

"It's not a coincidence House." She was losing patience.

"No. It's not." He wasn't going to deny setting this all up. What would be the point in that? But he also wasn't going to just hand her the answer on a silver platter either. Where's the fun in that?

"Do you have to be such an asshole about everything?"

"It's clearly the only way to get your attention." House was still cool, at least on the outside. It was too soon to show that she was ruffling his feathers.

"You want my attention, you've got it." She had moved closer to him and was now in his face in a challenging manner.

Now that House had it, he wasn't sure what to do with it. He wanted to kiss her. He knew it was cliché, he knew that all bad Harlequin romances had this scene, when the heroine and hero are arguing heatedly and end up in a passionate embrace, lips forced together, tongues fighting for dominance, and he didn't want to be a cliché, but man did he want to kiss her.

It was that flash of fire in her eyes and the way her cheeks flushed when she got angry that just turned him on. He knew it shouldn't, but he was a rebel. He prided himself on doing things he shouldn't do. And he fantasized about ripping her bodice off, like the Harlequin heroes, exposing her heaving bosom as his throbbing manhood burned between them like a fiery rod about to thrust through her garden gates.

He shook the thoughts out of his head. This was no time to reenact _Tamed by the Barbarian _for the zillionth time with he and Cuddy as the leads. And don't dare ask him how he knew the plot to _Tamed by the Barbarian. _It was a gag gift from Wilson last Christmas, it was a rainy night, the cable had gone out and he had nothing else to do. It really wasn't his fault.

"I'm waiting." Cuddy was growing impatient, and very nervous under his lascivious gaze.

"I'm leaving." House pulled himself out of his chair, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up his leg. With great effort, he hurried out of the office before she could say anything to stop him. He needed time to think.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Thanks all for reading. This is an idea that popped into my head while IMing my pal Mixy. She suggested I write a story around it, and, well, here it is.

**RE: Medical Information**

None of the medicine in this story is going to be accurate. I did surface research and am using real medical terms when I can because what I try to make up doesn't sound good at all, but this is in no way a story about the illnesses or syptoms of the patient. It's meant to be a twisted love story about Huddy, so that's where my real focus is. I just threw in some medical stuff to add atmosphere. Please don't be too disappointed in me.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

House rushed down the hallway, looking over his shoulder just once. He could see her standing in the doorway, watching him. He could feel the angry confusion wrapped around her like a warm blanket. It was a feeling he had given her often. It held a comforting familiarity that let them both know that things would go back to the way they were, eventually.

"What are you doing?" House burst into Wilson's office without a knock or a hello. It was his standard form of entry into the domain of his closest friend.

"I'm with a patient." Wilson glanced over at the pale young man on the couch.

"Sorry," House blurted without meaning it. "I need you." He waited for Wilson to get up. When the man didn't he added with urgency, "NOW!"

"Will you excuse me?" Wilson smiled apologetically to his patient and followed House out onto the balcony between their offices.

"She's in my office." House said a bit louder than necessary.

Wilson rolled his eyes as he tried to leave. He was stopped by House's tight grip on his arm. "You moved all her things in there House. Where do you expect her to be?"

"I expected her to throw a fit. Then I was going to negotiate with her; then she was going to move back into her office."

"What about the fire ants?" Wilson smirked. House had some pretty outlandish ideas in his day, but this one was quite elaborate and highly amusing.

"There aren't actual fire ants in her office Wilson. I made that part up." House's voice was quieter now, as if he were trying to hide something from prying ears.

"So, tell her that and she'll move back." Wilson was growing more impatient with each syllable.

"No she won't. She'll stay, just to annoy me." House knew her well.

"So, why are you telling me all this?" Wilson wanted to go in. It was chilly and he'd left his coat in his nice warm office, with the dying patient he was supposed to be comforting.

"You're my friend. Friends share their problems."

"You certainly do." Wilson sighed. "There's nothing I can do House. You started this, you have to finish it. Propose to her. That'll send her running."

"You're no help." House huffed, hoping to manipulate Wilson into talking to him through guilt.

"Sorry," Wilson said without a hint of remorse in his voice. He was only sorry he hadn't locked the door on House when he had the chance.

He finally broke free from House's grip and made his way back into his office quickly. With the skill of a man who'd been in this position before, he quickly locked the sliding glass door that separated his office from the chilly outdoor balcony. House would bang on the glass, but he'd eventually give up. Wilson motioned Pete to come sit with him at the desk. It was farther away from the door than the couch was, and with any luck, House's voice would be muffled by the short distance.

Cuddy could hear voices through the glass door that lead to the balcony House had requisitioned a few years back. She shook her head as she remembered holding the requisition with an almost perfect copy of her signature. She wondered how long it had taken House to perfect it. A doctor's signature was usually rather hard to decipher which surprisingly made it harder to duplicate. She imagined House up nights, hunched over a piece of her trash practicing her name over and over until he'd gotten it just right. She should be mad that one of her employees would forge her signature on official hospital documents, and if it were any other doctor, she would be furious, but she felt she understood House, and this understanding led her to be more lenient with him than she probably should have been.

Still, it had been harmless enough. She took the money for the construction out of House's budget, so no other department was hurt by the renovations, and she got a few extra clinic hours out of House as payment. She'd considered it a victory all around.

She walked over quietly and put her ear to the door. She was sure they were talking about her, and she couldn't pass up such an opportunity.

He wanted her to leave. She pondered that as she returned to her desk. Until just a few seconds ago, she wanted to leave too, but now…

"You're still here?" House said as he pushed his way back into the room through the door she'd just been pressed against.

"And I'm staying." It was decided, whether she liked it or not. At least he wouldn't like it.

"No you're not." House's face fell. A sudden look of panic flashed across the deep lines of his face. For just a moment he'd lost control.

"I like this office." She casually walked around the desks, her hand gliding across the smooth surfaces of each. "It's a good location, the ladies room is right across the hall, a little redecorating would open up the room …it's even got a balcony."

"You'd better be careful or someone might push you off it." House was NOT happy. This wasn't how this was supposed to go.

She smiled that smug little triumphant smile he hated. He wanted to smack it off her face. No, that's not what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss it off her face, to lick it slowly off her sweet, salty flesh as he devoured every hint of smugness from her soft, silken lips and…he shook the thought out of his head.

Ever since that damned kiss, that sweet, blissful, cursed kiss he couldn't get her off his mind. And now here she was, in his office for god knew how long, teasing him by simply being. Oh, if she knew what her mere presence was doing to him…no, he couldn't let that happen. There was no way he was going to admit her being there was having any effect on him at all.

"Hope you like music." House petulantly flipped on his iPod, choosing the most obnoxious thing he could find, which happened to be Marilyn Manson's greatest hits. That would surely send her screaming out into the night.

Cuddy winced as the first curse flew out of Manson's demonic throat. Then she smiled and said she didn't want House to change his routine just because she was there.

"I'm glad to hear you say that," House replied, propping his feet up on his desk, which pushed some of his papers onto her desk, which was his intention. He also cranked up the speakers and began playing air guitar to the song he'd only listened to once before. The CD had been a gift from a patient and he'd loaded it onto his iPod for just such an occasion, to bug the hell out of whoever happened to be around.

Cuddy shut her eyes tightly for a moment, and practiced her yoga breathing. She had been working on centering herself and staying calm. She thought it would be a good thing to be able to do when she became a mother, back when she was foolish enough to think she would become a mother. Her mind flashed back to the birth of her almost daughter Joy. She could practically feel Joy's tiny hand wrap around her finger.

She didn't notice House watching her, but he was staring intently. There was such sadness in her shut eyes, the small smile that raised the corners of her lips while her brow remained bitterly furrowed. He knew exactly what she was thinking about.

It hadn't been long, only a few weeks, since she lost the baby. Joy hadn't died, thought it might have been easier that way. Instead her birth mother had decided to keep her and destroy Cuddy's dreams of motherhood once more.

House knew he shouldn't be glad his friend hadn't gotten the baby she'd dreamed of for so long, but he was. He wasn't ready for Cuddy to have a child. He wasn't ready to share her, not with the parade of boyfriends he'd chased off through the years and not with a child, with whom he knew he could never compete.

And he still didn't know why he'd kissed her.

Maybe it was his way of showing her she wasn't alone, that she didn't need some baby in her life to feel like she meant something to someone. She meant something to him, and if he were a better man, a braver man perhaps, he would tell her that, but he couldn't. He couldn't open himself up like that. Not to her, not to anyone. He'd done it once and had his life shattered. This time the stakes were too high. If he lost Cuddy he wouldn't just loose a lover, he'd lose a 20 year friendship. It was too rare a gift for him to throw away in the pursuit of love…no, not love. He wouldn't allow himself to think of it as love. It was sex he wanted pure and simple, and he couldn't lose his friend over another one night stand.

Cuddy had opened her eyes again and was holding them wide, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to escape as soon as she blinked. She looked down, doing that nervous fidgeting he found particularly adorable. She put her hand to her head. He knew this was to hide the tear that had finally escaped.

For just a moment he thought of turning the music off, perhaps leaving her alone for a while, but he didn't. He couldn't. Instead he started to hum to the music.

Cuddy reached over and yanked the speakers out of the wall. "I lied. I hate music!" She loved music. In college she used to go down to the student lounge to listen to House play piano. It was the only one he had access to, being a poor, deeply in debt intern and student advisor (a condition of his acceptance at Michigan, after having been expelled from Hopkins). He played beautifully, with such pathos and intensity. That, was music, Marilyn Manson screeching about guns wasn't.

"I hate silence." House pouted, struggling to push the plug back into the socket without actually getting out of his chair. His attempts, though unsuccessful, brought a small smile to Cuddy's face. Especially after the second time he banged his head on the bottom of his desk.

"Give it to me!" She held out her slender hand and took the plug he placed in it. Then she vanished under the desk and set to work restoring his music.

House never really thought of himself as a particularly lucky man. He'd suffered an Infarction that nearly cost him his leg, he lost his girlfriend, his father was a miserable bastard who hated the constant reminder of his wife's infidelity that he not so affectionately called Greg. All in all, he was not a lucky guy, but sometimes luck smiled on him in small, but satisfying ways.

Cuddy was just climbing out from under their joined desks when 13 walked in without knocking. She knew knocking wouldn't work with House. He'd just ignore it. As soon as House saw her surprised face he grinned from ear to ear.

"Dr. Cuddy?" Remy Hadley stopped dead in her tracks, looking with distain at the head of the hospital, who was now crawling out from under House's desk.

"Dr. Hadley," Cuddy replied with equal distain, though she was starting to blush just a little. She knew how this looked, her crawling ass first out from under House's desk where House was sitting looking far too pleased with himself. Protesting her innocence would only make her look guilty of something, so she simply straightened her skirt and sat at her desk.

"Sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to let you know," she couldn't stop glancing over at Cuddy. "Carly is showing signs of improvement."

"That's disappointing." House frowned.

"Disappointing? Your patient is getting better House. Most doctors find that to be a good sign." Hadley wasn't sure what she'd expected from him, but disappointment wasn't it.

"There's a good reason I'm disappointed. What do you think that is?" He was showing off, showing Cuddy what a good teacher he was. He was trying to impress her, and it was a move not lost on his young employee.

"Because you're a heartless bastard," she snapped, trying to deflate his balloon.

"That's just my clever cover story. The real reason is that if she's getting better without having been diagnosed then we're not going to be able to figure out what was wrong with her?"

"Maybe nothing was wrong with her," Hadley snapped back.

"Right, she was just bored and decided to head out to the emergency room for a little fun."

"Her parents were worried because she hadn't spoken in days. You yourself said it was just teenage angst." Hadley was in a mood to disagree with anything he said. If he'd told her she was a good doctor she would have pointed out all her faults, so spoiling was she for a fight.

"And you listened to me?" Why did they always listen to him when he didn't want them to?

"You're my boss," Hadley snapped back argumentatively.

"She's my boss," House pointed his cane toward Cuddy who was listening intently, "but I don't listen to her."

"That's her problem." Hadley answered recklessly, not caring about the wrath of her boss's boss. Cuddy's eyebrow arched, but other than that she showed no signs of reaction. House noticed; Hadley didn't. "Are you suggesting we make the patient sick so you have something to play with?"

"I'm suggesting you go do your job." House wasn't in the mood, not now. He had already diagnosed Carly Peterson. He was just waiting to see how long it took the Idiots 2.0 to figure it out. He realized that giving Carly the thiamine treatment would throw off any diagnosis they tried to make, but as doctors they should be able to figure out that he'd been giving it to her. He wrote it on the chart, far in the back, in very small writing, but it was there.

After a bit more arguing, Hadley left in a huff, determined to prove that she was right and he was wrong.

"House," Cuddy was about to chastise him once again for his deficiencies as a human being.

"The patient is fine. She's already being treated for Wernicke's encephalopathy."

"But?" Cuddy looked confused.

"Shhhh," House pressed his finger to his lips. "I want to see how long it takes them to figure out their patient has already been cured."

"You can't do that House. If she's better, we have to release her." Cuddy didn't want to know what House was up to. Her job was easier when she didn't know these things. Being here, working beside him, she was going to know every illegal, unethical move he made. The feeling that this might be a good thing quickly slipped away from her and she wondered how long it was going to take Frank to find her a new office.

"I might have gotten the diagnosis wrong. It's better if we keep her here for a few more days." He smiled at her. "Give the kids a chance. They might find something I didn't. Kutner did mention that cyst."

Cuddy sighed heavily. He was right. There was a cyst and the rash and Wernicke's didn't explain either of them. "Patient care is not a game House."

"Of course it's not." He smiled. "This," he wiggled his finger between them, "is a game. Patient care is very serious business."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

House fell silent. The iPod hadn't been turned back on, and he could hear the faint mumblings of his team in the next room. They were arguing about something that didn't interest him. He was far more interested in how hard his boss was working to make it look like she wasn't aware of him staring at her.

He sighed and reached out to his iPod. He felt her eyes burn into his arm and quickly looked over at her. He wasn't quick enough. She'd looked away, but he saw her body tense up. He lowered his arm and picked up a magazine instead. Angelina definitely looked pregnant in that outfit. "Does she look pregnant?" He slipped the photo between Cuddy's eyes and the legal document she was reading. He saw in a brief flash that the question had been a bad one.

"Don't you have a patient to attend to?" Cuddy had a headache to attend to. One she thought would be a lot less severe if House weren't in the room. She rubbed the spot between her eyebrows deeply. It wasn't helping.

"That's why you let me hire a team, so they could do the attending." House poured a medium sized white pill into his hand and held it out to her.

"No thank you." Cuddy appreciated the gesture, a huge one where House was concerned, but she did not want his drugs. "Maybe you should go in there and tell them you've already diagnosed the patient for Wernickes."

"Is that a suggestion, or an order?" He had a feeling it was the later.

"Whichever one gets you off your ass and out of this room." She smiled.

"I think I'll go talk to my team, see how they're doing." He pulled himself out of his chair, relying more heavily on his cane than necessary. She might be able to push him out of his office, but he was going to make damned sure she felt guilty about it.

Cuddy did feel a pang of guilt, but it went away as her headache began to fade. Now maybe she could get some actual work done. She'd managed to postpone most of her meetings for the day. She was not really in the mood to deal with disgruntled employees or dismayed patients today. Dealing with House was more than enough headache for one day. But there was a mountain of paperwork she had to get through for the auditors end of the year assessment meeting next week.

The more she tried to focus, the more she thought about House. She kept asking herself why he'd done this. Why had he moved her into his office? The easy answer was that he knew it would annoy her, and it did and that was certainly part of it but House put a lot of effort into this, and he didn't often put a lot of effort into anything but his cases, and even then one could argue that he wasn't actually putting in any effort, he was just that good.

Cuddy didn't believe that. She knew him. She knew how hard he worked. He didn't like people to think it, but he spent many sleepless nights trying to solve a case. She should know, when he had his midnight epiphanies, he'd call her to brag about it, or bounce ideas off of her. It drove her crazy, but she wouldn't change it for the world.

Was this his twisted way of trying to tell her he was interested? She dared to think about it for a moment before shaking the horrible thought from her head. She did love him, she wasn't afraid to admit that to herself, though she would never tell a living soul such a thing.

A knock on the door disrupted her thoughts. It was followed by Wilson's floppy brown hair and concerned brow. "Where's House?"

"Away," she said it with such a sigh of relief that Wilson tried not to laugh.

"I wanted to see if he wanted to get lunch." Wilson took a few hesitant steps forward. He had been friends with Dr. Cuddy for a while now. Not nearly the way he was friends with House, but enough that he felt he could talk to her about some things, he just wasn't sure if this was one of those things. "So, how are things going?"

Cuddy put down her papers. "Is something on your mind?" Last time he'd tried to talk to her about House he'd asked her on a date. She was hoping this time would go a little better.

"I was just wondering how long you plan on staying in House's office." He nervously made his way deeper into the room.

"Why? Am I cramping your style?" Cuddy wondered if House was out on the balcony listening in, if he'd sent Wilson in here to get her to talk. She kept her guard up, just in case.

"No." Wilson laughed nervously. "I'm worried about House."

"Worried?" She was only half joking.

"He likes you Cuddy." That's when she knew Wilson was acting on his own. House wouldn't have authorized his saying that. "He REALLY likes you. I don't want to see him get hurt."

"You can't keep protecting him Wilson."

"So, you're going to hurt him?" Wilson's brow furrowed further.

"I don't plan on it. I'm not like him. I don't sit around plotting ways to make people miserable."

"You think he did this to make you miserable?" Wilson was still frowning pensively.

"You don't?" She wasn't sure she wanted to hear his answer.

"I think he did this because he wants to be near you, but he doesn't want you to know he wants to be near you, so he's pulling your pigtails to piss you off. Being pissed off is better than being ignored."

"We're not in grade school anymore Wilson." She said it dismissively, hoping he would consider himself dismissed, but he didn't. "He's pulling my pigtails because I'm his boss, and I let him get away with it."

"And why do you let him get away with it?" She was about to speak, but he put a finger up to silence her. "Ah, don't you dare say it's because he's so good at his job. I'm not falling for that line anymore."

It was Cuddy's turn to frown. She'd been feeding herself that line for so long now that she half believed it. She looked very vulnerable for a moment, like the grade school girl she claimed she wasn't, and Wilson felt a little guilty about questioning her this way, but it had to be done.

"You like him, he likes you, but you're both too stubborn to do anything about it." Wilson was in shrink mode. But you know House as well as I do. If you want to have a relationship with him, you're going to have to make the first move. He's not going to put himself out there to be hurt again."

"What makes you think I want a relationship with him?" She didn't, not on paper. She wanted to get married and have children and a healthy loving relationship with a man she could trust. That's what she told herself. That's what made sense. She shushed her heart as it tried to explain that love didn't make sense and that she would never be happy without House in her life.

"So, you just want sex?" Wilson wanted to lighten the mood just a bit, realizing he'd walked into a potential land mine.

"I just want to be left alone so I can get my work done." She said each word slowly, hoping it might sink into his thick hair that she wanted him to leave.

"Aren't you sick of being alone?" His comment was so reminiscent of House that she had to stare at him for a long moment to remind herself that this was Wilson, not his harsher, more brutal friend.

"Get out!" She stood up and pointed to the door and Wilson had no choice but to oblige. He only hoped he'd gotten through to her.

Cuddy sat back down in a huff. She fumbled with the papers on her desk but was too irritated to focus on any of them for more than a few seconds. Wilson had gotten to her. Tonight she would go home and she would make herself dinner, and sit down in front of her computer and go through the emails she hadn't been able to get to today.

Wilson was right. She was sick of being alone. She was sick of going to friend's anniversary parties or second weddings and getting fixed up with some guy they thought she'd like but who paled in comparison to… "No," she said out loud, stopping herself from having such thoughts. House was her friend, and her colleague and nothing more.

She looked across to his empty chair. He'd requisitioned that chair the day he started at the hospital. He'd told her the standard chair in his office wasn't supportive enough. Nothing was ever supportive enough for Gregory House. That was the problem.

She would have tried, years ago, to date him, when they hooked up in college, she had fantasies that he was the one, but then she realized how needy he was, needy of her time, her attention, needy for other things that she didn't mind giving him, but she had a career to work toward, she needed to focus on school, on becoming a doctor, and even when she did it wasn't enough for him.

How many times had he told her she wasn't good enough? More than she cared to think about. He was constantly pulling her down, keeping her from getting the things she wanted.

She dropped her head into her hands. That wasn't right. House wasn't responsible for all the mistakes in her life. She was. She just wanted someone to blame. It was easier to find someone who didn't mind taking the blame, who practically invited it in with open arms. She snorted a small laugh. In his own twisted way, he was helping her. How typically like House that was.

She got up and paced, walking past his desk, then hers, then his, then hers. Her hand ran across the smooth surface of his desk. She liked how it felt cool to her touch. Her eyes glanced at the computer screen. His screensaver was now running. A parade of Victoria's Secret models floated across the screen. It made her smile. House was a typical guy deep down, or perhaps that was the surface and something else lurked beneath it.

Her hand slid across the front of his desk as she walked toward his empty chair. It was facing her, inviting her to sit down, so she did. She spun it a quarter turn until her legs slipped under the desk. Her eye caught the glint of a drawer handle. She looked over at the door that separated his room from the diagnostics meeting room.

Her fingers wrapped around the sleek metal handle and she pulled the drawer open slowly. If he caught her, well, she didn't want to imagine what would happen. She just had to be fast. She wasn't sure what she would find, or even what she was looking for, she was just curious to see what he kept hidden away in the back of his desk.

She shook her head with a smile as a Playboy Playmate stared back at her. She removed the siliconed, bleached girl and put her on the desk, face down. Next up was an unmarked envelope. It wasn't sealed. Inside were two tickets to Woodstock. She reread it. It indeed said Woodstock. There was also a receipt in the envelope. She pulled it out and nearly gasped at how much House had paid for two authentic, unused Woodstock tickets. She put them back in the envelope and moved on.

Assorted pens, one of which was hers, with her monogram on the case. She'd wondered where that pen went. Should have known. She put that pen in her pocket. The rest she just sifted through, looking for something good.

That drawer wasn't going to give away anything else, so she moved down to the next one. "Can I help you with something?" House was standing in the doorway. Cuddy froze. Her hand was clutching the handle.

"I was looking for a pen." It was a bad lie, and they both knew it.

"Most people look in the top drawer, or maybe in that cup over there in the corner; the one with all the pens sticking out of it." He was smirking as he walked toward her. "Or perhaps you could use this one." He reached down into her pocket and pulled out the monogrammed Mont Blanc she'd just stolen back from him.

Cuddy felt him close, the heat of his body combating the chill that had rushed up her spine on getting caught. He was lingering closer than necessary as his hand sunk down slowly into the pocket of her tight suit jacket. He didn't have to dig that far into her shallow pocket, or let his breath fall that close to the nape of her neck as he bent over her, but he did.

She quickly overcame the rapid beating of her heart and spoke. "I found my pen. I was just looking to see what else you'd stolen from me." Like my heart. The thought flashed so quickly across her mind that she wasn't sure she'd even thought it, and feared she might have said it out loud. His face showed no signs of having heard her, so she finally breathed again.

"Get out of my chair." He nudged her shoulder with the end of his cane.

Cuddy did as she was told. She realized she was getting off light considering this was House, and wondered why. "You're not going to do anything?"

"What for?" He sounded completely nonplused about finding her snooping through his things.

"I was going through your personal things House. That would have sent you over the edge before…" She stopped herself.

"Before what?" He dared her to say it.

Cuddy bit down on her lip before replying. She hadn't meant to say that. "Just…before."

"Before the kiss?" He spoke accusatorily.

She'd lost. "You've been different, House. Ever since we kissed, you've been…" She was searching for the word.

"Different?" House said, unhelpfully and blankly.

She moaned. He was still as exasperating as ever.

"I just don't understand why House. It's not like…" she stumbled over her words. "We've had sex before and…" she was struggling to not ask the question that could drive him away for good. "And it didn't change things."

"It's different," House mumbled as quietly as he could.

"What's different House? Why is it different? Just tell me." She wanted to know. She wanted things to go back to the way they were. She hated not knowing if he was going to be his usual prickly self or this guy who lets her get away with snooping through his desk and agrees to her demands instead of standing up for what he knows is right. She wanted her House back. "Did I do something wrong? Did I offend you?"

"Maybe I'm just an ass," he mumbled again. He didn't want to have this discussion with her now. He needed a way out.

"You're not just an ass." She grabbed his arm as he tried to retreat. For a long, lingering moment they looked into each others eyes, deep into each others eyes, searching for answers.

He could see how hurt she was that he wasn't opening up to her. His mouth opened slightly as he willed himself to tell her, but the words stuck in his throat. They refused to leave the safety of his mouth. He chocked on their bitterness.

Cuddy was screaming inside 'tell me House, say it, say you love me' she wanted so desperately to hear it from him, the way she'd imagined it when she was all alone in her perfect house in her beautifully made bed, touching herself and moaning his name. She gulped anxiously, hoping her thoughts weren't reflected in her face.

"I need to go check on my patient." It was a flimsy excuse, given the man saying it, but House had to get out of there. He was finding it hard to breath without taking in her sweet fragrance. Her perfume was making him dizzy, at least he told himself it was her perfume.

"Don't walk out on me House." She made it sound like a threat, but they both knew she would never follow through.

"Patients always come first, isn't that what you keep telling me?" Bitterness dripped from his words. He pushed his way past her, though he could easily have walked around. The force of his body pushed her into the desk and she slammed her hand down on the pile of papers in its corner to steady herself.

"Damn," she cursed as the door swung shut behind him. "Damn!" She pushed the papers off the desk in frustration.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

House grabbed a tray from the pile. It was wet and hot and small driblets of water temporarily stained his pants. "Damn," he cursed under his breath, less at the innocuous tray and more at the mess he'd just made of things with Cuddy.

"Bad day?" Allison Cameron came up behind him and handed him a napkin to wipe away the warm water.

"Every day is a bad day," House grumbled.

"You can come eat with me and Chase." It was an offer she knew he'd refuse, but one she offered anyway, because that's just who she was.

"Okay." House was desperate. Cuddy had just walked in.

As they made their way slowly through the lunch line, Cameron watched House carefully. He was watching Cuddy. He had his head down, and appeared to be focused on the food options in front of him, but Cameron could tell, he was watching Cuddy he just didn't want anyone to know he was.

"What's going on with you two?" She couldn't help herself. It's just who she was.

"None of your business." House handed the cashier a twenty and waited for his change.

"Fine, don't tell me." Cameron didn't much care. It had taken her a long time, and a lot of hard work, and many mind blowing orgasms from resident Aussie Robert Chase, but she had finally gotten over House. It was a nice feeling. Still, she wanted House to find happiness. "But if you want to talk…"

"Do I look like I want to talk?" House glared at her menacingly, then glanced toward Cuddy and rushed to the table Chase was saving. He saw the look first of amusement, then confusion, then downright despair as House walked with Cameron then sat down at their table.

"What are you doing here?" Chase didn't have to hide his disappointment any longer. House had fired him a year ago and he was free to show House how he really felt.

"She invited me." House flicked a thumb toward the pretty blonde.

"Great." Chase made an uncertain face then, when House wasn't looking, stuck his tongue out at his girlfriend. He loved her, but damn she had to stop trying to save House from himself. It was only going to put her in a bad mood and he had plans for this evening that required her being in a good and generous mood.

House sat where he could see the room without really being to noticeable. He was watching Cuddy walk through the lunch line. She was talking to Foreman about something that looked serious until Nurse Davis tapped her on the shoulder and said something that made Cuddy smile.

She had a beautiful smile. House felt himself growing flush. He quickly pulled off his jacket making some random comment about the money she was wasting keeping the heat so high.

"It's not hot," Chase said, shaking his head.

"It's like a furnace," House continued his exaggeration, determined to get them to agree through sheer force of will.

"It's a little warm," Cameron said hesitantly.

"Oh, don't give in to him," Chase scolded her. "He'll just keep going."

"If we don't just agree with him he'll keep going until we do."

House leaned between them. "He's sitting right here and can hear you talking about him."

The young blonde couple laughed. House just knew they were playing footsie under the table. He turned his attention elsewhere.

Cuddy had finished buying her lunch and headed toward a table almost directly across the room from him. House looked down at his plate quickly as sat. They'd almost made eye contact. He wasn't ready for eye contact. Last time had almost been a disaster. One look into those blue eyes of hers and he might say something he'd live to regret even more than the kiss.

Cuddy found a table toward the back of the room. She wasn't in the mood for company. Alas, that didn't stop Ben Thompson from pulling up a seat beside her. "Cuddy," he said her name with more enthusiasm than it warranted.

"Thompson." She nodded politely as she grumbled to herself.

"So, have you given any thought to my proposal?" Dr. Thompson was the head of pediatrics and he had his eye on building a new pediatrics wing at the hospital next year.

"I told you Thompson, I can't make any more cuts. If you can't raise the money yourself, it's not going to happen this year." She didn't know what was wrong with their current pediatrics wing, other than the fact that it wasn't as big as the one at Princeton General, which Thompson's ex-wife ran.

House watched as she discussed business with Dr. Thompson, jealous that she had something to take her mind off their fight.

He wasn't even sure it was a fight, not really. For it to be considered a fight he would have had to participate, and he'd gone out of his way to avoid doing that. He was afraid to get in a fight with her. He was afraid of what might happen.

"She looks bored," Cameron said, following his gaze.

"I'm guessing you have a point?" House made a face at her.

"Maybe you should go rescue her." It was common knowledge amongst the staff at PPTH that Dr. Ben Thompson was the single most boring human being on the face of the Earth. How he worked so well with children was a mystery to them all. He was horrible with adults, unless the adult in question had a serious case of insomnia. Then he was God's Gift.

"I don't rescue people." House pushed his mashed potatoes around on his plate.

"You could start now," Chase added to the conversation.

For a moment they thought he was going to do it. He picked up his tray with steely determination on his face and stood up with bravado. The young doctors watched as he strode away from their table. He was headed the right way when he suddenly took a sharp left and plopped himself down at a table full of wide eyed interns. "This seat isn't taken is it?" He asked, not really asking. They shook their heads in silent horror.

Cuddy watched out of the corner of her eye and for a moment she thought House was headed this way. She held in her breath as she watched him move across the cafeteria.

"Dr. Cuddy? Did you hear me?" Thompson waved a hand in her face blotting House from view for a second, then another as it waved back and forth. She lost track of him for a moment, as if he'd just vanished, or she'd only imagined him coming to her rescue like some knight in a medieval love story.

"No." She shook her head. It wasn't worth pretending she'd been paying the annoyingly twitchy little man any attention.

"I said you could cut the diagnostics budget by half. I don't see why a man who hardly takes one case a month should have a team of highly trained, expensive Fellows working for him. Get rid of one or two of them and that will save you…"

She scanned the room searching for the man she couldn't get off her mind. She saw him sitting at a table full of frightened interns. He couldn't possibly be enjoying that. The thought made her smile. "That's not going to happen."

"Of course not," Thompson sulked. Everyone knew it was a pointless battle trying to take anything away from Dr. Gregory House. Cuddy might be in charge, but it was House who was running things in this hospital. "But be assured the Board is going to hear about this." It was an empty threat, not because Thompson wouldn't go to the Board of Directors with his complaint, but because the Board appreciated the fact that Cuddy had taken them from twelfth to third on the national teaching hospital rankings. She could pretty much do whatever she wanted so long as they didn't drop down on the list.

Cuddy quickly looked down at her napkin. House had looked over at her. She felt like an idiot, like a fourteen year old idiot with a crush on the high school quarterback. She could feel her cheeks turning a light shade of pink, but she didn't dare reach up to touch them. That would only draw attention to the fact. "Excuse me." She got up and left quickly.

House watched her leave with a frown. Then he got up without having said a word to his table mates, who also hadn't said a word as they sat and watched the notorious doctor dissect his meatloaf methodically.

Chase nudged his girlfriend and pointed out House's hasty retreat. "Nooner," he smirked, thinking he'd solved the riddle of House and Cuddy.

"I don't think so." Cameron made a face. In theory she did want House to be happy, to move on and find somebody, but she didn't like thinking about it in practice, and was now mad at Chase for putting the image of a naked House and Cuddy doing it in the lab into her mind.

"Well then, maybe we should show them how it's done." With a glint in his eye Chase took her by the hand and pulled her out of her seat. They ran off to some dark corner of the hospital to relive the crazy days of their early 'non' relationship.

House shuffled down the hallway. He paused for a moment to watch his two horny ex-employees vanish into an unused recovery room. He also noticed Cuddy standing by the Nurse's Station talking to Evil Nurse Brenda. He lingered, just far enough around the corner not to be seen, but just close enough to catch a few words here and there.

Brenda was asking about Cuddy's office, about the health hazards of keeping the hospital open while there was an infestation of fire ants. House grinned proudly as Cuddy tried to explain that it wasn't an issue while trying not to explain what was really going on. Her success at this task just proved how good she was at her job.

Brenda seemed satisfied with whatever answer Cuddy had given. House hadn't caught most of it as the general noise of a busy hospital atrium kept burying their words in a mindless, droning buzz of voices. It didn't matter. They weren't talking about him.

House headed toward the elevators. He was accosted by his team.

Cuddy glanced around the open atrium. She could hear that familiar step, step, thump of House and his cane. House was walking toward the elevators. She stood and waited, pretending to be checking what she hoped was a patients chart. She didn't bother looking down to see, just grabbed the first thing she could reach and pretended to be interested in what it said. What she was really interested in was what House was saying to his team.

She couldn't make out the words, but Hadley seemed irritated about something. Taub was stoic, though his face as he glared at Hadley looked slightly annoyed. Kutner was fidgeting. They were probably just talking about his patient. Carly Peterson, daughter of Lowell Peterson, district attorney and local celebrity. If he ever found out about House's little 'game'…she didn't want to think how quickly the hospital would be shut down.

She took a deep breath and went to confront him.

House turned, as if he could feel her coming.

"Did you tell them?" She glared at him, waiting to catch him in a lie.

"Nope."

"Tell us what?" Taub asked. He had been married long enough to recognize the physical signs of a marital spat, and he saw all those signs in the two people before him. Cuddy's combative stance, one hand on her hip, the other ridged at her side; House staring directly into her eyes, not down into her blouse like usual; he wasn't leaning on his cane, but rather held it tightly, forcing all his tension into the handle.

House waited to see if Cuddy would speak for him. She didn't. "I put the patient on thiamine yesterday. That's why she's improving. She has Wernicke's."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Taub asked matter of factly.

Cuddy was tapping her foot impatiently. Her arms were now folded tightly across her chest.

"I wanted to see how long it would take you to figure it out." House told the truth.

"You can't do that!" Hadley protested the loudest and therefore the other two backed off. "You're playing with people's lives." She looked at Cuddy, expecting support.

"She knew all about it," House told his underling, much to her dismay.

"How can you let him do this?" Hadley looked to be on the verge of quitting she was so angry.

"Have you figured out what caused the rash?" Cuddy avoided the subject of enabling House all together.

"It's probably an allergic reaction to the thiamine." Taub wasn't as incensed as Hadley. He expected this kind of thing from House and took it in stride.

"She had the rash before I gave her the drugs." House shot that balloon out of the air.

"We ran all the allergy tests. It's not an allergic reaction to anything normal." Kutner had her file, and was flipping through it, trying to find something that was missing.

The elevator dinged and a group of people pushed past them on their way out. House entered first, and tried to hit the button before anyone could join him, but Cuddy stuck her arm out, holding the door and letting the Fellows enter. Then she followed and pressed the second floor key. House glared at her.

"Maybe she's allergic to something abnormal." Cuddy figured she might as well join in.

"Abnormal? Like what?" Kutner was intrigued by the idea.

"You're the diagnosticians. Figure it out." They had reached the second floor quickly. Cuddy was the first to leave. Unfortunately, they were all going to the same place, or at least approximately the same place, since she was headed to her temporary office which was attached to where they would continue their conversation in the Diagnostics Meeting Room.

House wrinkled his nose and wobbled his head as he imitated her "you figure it out," he said in a high pitched, girly voice. Kutner chuckled. "You heard her, go figure it out."


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

House hobbled into the patient's room. Carly was sleeping on the uncomfortable hospital bed, a few tubes sticking out of her arm. "Ewe," he said rather audibly as he looked at her rash covered body.

"Nice to see you too," she said, slowly blinking open her gummy eyes. She felt like she'd been sleeping for days and still didn't feel refreshed.

"It got worse." House poked at her red arm.

"That's a brilliant diagnosis doctor." Carly had come to appreciate House's lack of compassion. She had been coddled most of her life. She knew her parents meant well, or at least she preferred to assume they did, but sometimes it was nice to be treated like a human being.

"I do what I can." House took her vitals. "You didn't tell on me." He was looking into her hazel eyes. The faint green centers were rimmed with red.

"I do what I can." She gave him a weak smile. She liked House. He was like the bad father she never had.

House shoved a thermometer in her mouth.

"I hud a woma," Carly tried to say with the long implement trapped between her lips.

"Huh?" House pulled it out and looked at it, making a notation in her chart. All of this was very atypical behavior for him, but with Wilson in surgery, and Cuddy in his office and his team, well, he really didn't want to hang out with them, so this seemed the best place for him at the moment.

"I heard a rumor. It's amazing what the nurses will say when they think you're asleep. One of them said you have a thing for your boss. Do you have a thing for your boss?" She seemed excited. She'd been out of school for only three days, but the lack of gossip was killing her.

"No."

"You do!" Her face lit up, or at least he assumed it did. It was hard to tell under that blanket of rash she was sporting. "Is she hot?"

"I wouldn't like her if she wasn't."

"You do like her then." Carly grinned. She felt like she'd triumphed, but in reality, House wanted to talk to someone, someone without a vested interest in his life, someone like a patient who had no choice but to sit and listen to him.

"We totally made out." Funny thing about Gregory House; he was 48, brilliant, and bitter and yet, he often related very well to teenage girls. It was as if his inner child was Hannah Montana.

"No way! Here at the hospital?"

"No. Her house." He was thinking about the kiss. The way he'd felt as he looked down into her sad eyes. How he'd wanted her to feel wanted, loved, but really, that's how he wanted to feel in that moment.

Despite what she thought, he had taken advantage of her. Her guard was down and he kissed her. He knew she wouldn't push him away. He could see it in her eyes. She was the one who needed to feel loved, she needed to feel wanted, and he'd taken advantage of that need.

"It was a good kiss, wasn't it?" Carly saw his far away look and knew he was reliving the moment.

"I've had better." House dismissed his thoughts.

"You gonna kiss her again?" This was better than watching General Hospital, which had become all about the mob lately, and, blech, she just didn't care about a bunch of mobsters going around killing each other. She liked love stories.

"Maybe." He wanted to.

"You should."

"Just like that?" House shrugged.

"Why not?" Carly smiled. She almost wanted to take his hand, to comfort him, he looked so hurt, but she knew he wouldn't like it.

House's brain reeled off a list as long as his cane, and that was only in the first second since being asked. Give him a minute and he'd come up with more. "She obviously likes you back or she wouldn't have let you kiss her." Carly thought about it for a moment. "You didn't force her did you?" House shook his head. "Good. Then she let you kiss her. Did she kiss back? Where there tongues involved?" Carly needed to know these things.

"Yes." Oddly, House didn't mind telling her these things. Perhaps it's because his little thiamine experiment proved she could keep her mouth shut, or perhaps he was just so desperate for someone to tell him what he wanted to hear.

"Then ask her out." Carly rolled her eyes. This was worse than when she'd tried to convince Tommy Hill to ask Trish Marsters to Homecoming. She had worked her magic then, and she would work her magic now. "The worst she can do is say no."

"You don't know Cuddy." House could think of many worse things than her saying no. "She could fire me." He decided to throw one out there, to wipe that disbelieving, optimistic smirk off Carly's face.

"She wouldn't fire you for asking her out. Especially not if you cure me. You are going to cure me, right?"

"Not if you continue to annoy me."

"You're not annoyed." Carly coughed a little and some blood spattered out. Neither of them reacted to it, since it had been happening on and off since she arrived. She simply picked up a napkin and wiped her chest where the blood had fallen. "If you were, you'd have left already."

"Ever think about becoming a doctor?" He wouldn't mind her working for him someday.

"Why would I want to work that hard?" She made a face.

"Good point." House took a long, cleansing breath. "Where would I take her?"

"I don't know Dr. House. I'm in high school. Our idea of a date is a movie, dinner at the local diner and a quick grope in the backseat of the car."

"Which diner?" That didn't sound like a bad date at all. Especially the end bit.

"You're a doctor. Take her somewhere nicer than a diner."

"I like diner food."

"I don't care. You're trying to impress this woman. Forget about what you like and take her somewhere she'd like. Find out what her favorite food is…"

"She likes Italian." Truth was, she liked several different types of food, but he remembered taking her to a small Italian bistro years ago and she seemed to enjoy that.

"Good. That's a great start. My Mom loved D'Agostino's." They ate out almost every night. Not her, just her parents. Carly usually ate the leftovers from the night before. She may be coddled, but she never felt particularly loved.

"D'Agostino's? Do they have Fettuccini Alfredo?" He recalled Cuddy ordering it once. It might have been on that date years ago, but he thought it had probably been at some conference or other.

"I don't know, but if you tell them you know my father they'll give you anything you want. He helped Mr. D'Agostino out a couple years ago, some tax thing, I really wasn't paying attention. Anyway, he had been my father's biggest supporter ever since." Carly leaned as much as she could toward her doctor. "I think whatever it was, it wasn't very legal, or ethical, not that that's ever stopped my father." She shrugged and fell back into her regular position.

Her body ached, not just from whatever disease was coursing through her veins, but from being stuck in one position for days on end. She had been diagnosed with ADD when she was small, and was on medication for it, all of which her doctors knew all about. Despite the medicine, staying still was agony to her, especially being stuck on her back in bed for days on end.

"The Wenwhatever isn't the only thing wrong with me, is it Dr. House?" She looked at him hopefully. She was hoping he'd say it was, that she would be all better and could go home today, but she could see by the troubled look in his eye that she wasn't going to get the answer she wanted. Still, it didn't hurt to ask.

"We're not sure what else is going on." He didn't like to sugar coat things, even for children.

Carly sighed heavily. "Do me a favor Dr. House?" He didn't respond so she carried on. "Ask your Dr. Cuddy out on a date, and come and tell me all about it." She saw a look of horror flash over his face. "You don't have to describe the dirty bits if you don't want to. But I'm stuck in this damn bed all day with nothing to do but watch boring soaps and talk shows. I need some excitement."

"I'll rent you some videos."

"You'll ask her out, and you'll have a grand time, and maybe even get lucky, and you'll be so thankful for me pushing you into it that you'll rush over here and tell me all about it, and I'll get all better in time to be a bridesmaid at your wedding." She was a romantic at heart.

"As your doctor, I am advising you to not hold your breath."

She took a big lung full of air and held it in her cheeks. Seconds later she began to choke, letting the air pour out of her in spurts. She was hyperventilating and House sprung into action, calling in the closest nurse and checking Carly's vitals.

Her heart was racing faster than her body could handle. She was convulsing rapidly, her arms flailing at her sides and her head banging against her pillow. House held her down, his cane falling to the floor in a loud thud. He had to throw his body across hers to get her still.

Nurse Donna rushed in and following House's rapid fire orders, shoved a needle into the girls arm. Moments later Carly's body fell still.

House, panting, pushed himself to his feet. Nurse Donna handed him his cane and asked what happened.

He was halfway through explaining when Kutner rushed in, followed almost immediately by Taub, and a moment later by Hadley. They wanted to know what happened, so he told them.

"Why was she holding her breath?" Kutner asked, adding this reason information to her file.

"I was testing her lungs," House lied. It was better than trying to explain what had happened.

"Well, she failed," Hadley stated blandly.

"Yes, but we now have another symptom." House looked down at the unconscious girl. He wanted her to be alright. He wanted to be able to tell her about his date. Of course that meant he'd now have to ask Cuddy out, for real."


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Cuddy was sitting at her desk, her phone pressed against her ear. "…I understand your issue Mr. Mitner, but you have to realize that this is a hospital, and we can't very well ask our patients to not get sick because you couldn't get us the antibiotics we ordered three weeks ago."

House walked past her quietly and sat down at his desk. She glanced up at him as he passed. He felt her eyes watching him as he went and sat down, then that feeling was gone, and he felt a chill at the loss.

"…No. I'm not paying for the shipment until we actually receive it…yes, I'm sure Mercy does things that way, but this isn't Mercy. We have standards."

House logged onto his computer and looked up D'Agostino's restaurant. It looked romantic. The webpage had a light gold background and the font was some frilly, swirly lettering that was hard to read. There was a photo of the candlelit dining room and a menu. He turned his attention to the menu, checking for the Fettuccini Alfredo he knew she would eat.

"…I'm taking my business to your competitor Mr. Mitner. Your last payment will be in the mail as soon as I get my shipment of antibiotics." She hung up in a huff.

"You tell 'em," House cheered her on quietly.

"How's Carly?" She had heard the page while she was on the phone.

"She'll be okay." House didn't see the Alfredo. Now what?

Cuddy was thinking about her words carefully, about whether she should say them or not. In the end, she felt it should be said. "I'm glad you stopped me from releasing her."

"I didn't do it for you," House replied snottily.

"This isn't working." She needed to get her work done. She got up and walked over to him slowly, almost seductively. He would have called it seductively if he didn't know her as well as he did.

"I agree. So why don't you leave?" House closed his browser quickly then leaned back and watched her move.

"Look, until Maintenance can find me another office, we're going to have to share this space, which means I'm going to use this as my office, and you're going to go spend some time getting to know your team better. Understood?" She leaned into his face and he looked down her drooping blouse.

"No."

"You're going in there." She pointed to the meeting room then pulled him out of his chair as well as she could. Unfortunately, House, anticipating her intentions, made himself a dead weight and rather than move him out of his chair, she moved herself into his lap. The effect was both maddening and exhilarating.

"Get off me woman!" House, after a lingering moment of pure, lascivious joy, pushed her off of himself, before he made a full and rather impressive salute which would only embarrass them both.

"Get out of that chair." She took a step back, straightening her skirt before pointing toward the door she wanted him to get hit in the ass with.

"No. It's my chair, and my office and I'm not leaving." House could be quite stubborn when he wanted to be, which seemed to be on any day ending in Y.

"I'm your boss and it's my office now. GO!" She was seconds away from stomping her foot in frustrated petulance.

"You go, you hang with the minions. Bet they could tell you some great stories about me, give you more ammo for when you finally get around to firing me."

"I don't need ammo House. If I wanted to fire you, the Board would get down on their knees and worship at my feet."

"Don't they already do that?" It was a well known fact that Cuddy had brought the hospital out of the red and made the elder members of the staff, also known as The Board, very wealthy doctors indeed. Since then, they had come to tolerate her seemingly blind devotion to one rather difficult diagnostician and his unorthodox procedures.

"They'd build me a shrine." Cuddy loved teasing House about the fact that she was the only reason he wasn't living in a cardboard box on a street corner in the bad part of town. She was the only administrator who was willing to take on such a liability, and the only chief of medicine who'd been able to get him to do his work for more than two days in a row.

What had helped was that she knew him better than almost anyone. She knew which cases would intrigue him and what aspect of a case she had to sell to him. She also knew that, in his own twisted way, he was loyal to her. When he knew it really mattered, he towed the line, and when she knew he was right, she let him get away with murder, no matter how unethical it might be. Together they'd worked out a delicate balance of push and pull that worked for them, until the kiss went and threw it all into a tailspin.

"Will there be virgin sacrifices?" It was so easy to get Cuddy off track. All House had to do was go off on one of his amusing little tangents, and she forgot why she was angry with him. It was a technique he'd mastered over the years. He knew it worked because, deep down, she envied him. She envied his brilliance and all the things it let him get away with. She envied his ability to not give a damn what anyone thought. She was so caught up in appearances, and politics, that she always worried what was being said of her. House wished she'd stop being that way and just let herself go. He bet that if she did, she'd be unstoppable.

"No." She had sat down at her desk, aware she would never get him to leave and that she had a lot of work to do that day. She began shuffling papers, making sure House hadn't 'accidentally' thrown out some important document that might disrupt his way of life.

The silence became deafening after about an hour and House, feeling some odd swell of confidence blurted out the words before he had time to think about their consequences. "Have you ever been to D'Agostino's?"

Cuddy was only paying half attention. "No. I hear it's nice."

"I was thinking of going to check it out."

She narrowed her eyes. "Do you have a date?" Her tone was teasing, but there was a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes, or was he just seeing what he wanted to see?

"I suppose you could come if you want." He shrugged trying so hard to seem like it didn't matter if she said no.

"Are you asking me out?" Why was it that a guy couldn't just come out and say 'do you want to go out with me?' anymore? They all had to beat so far around the bush she practically had to run to keep up.

"NO!" In an instant he'd changed his mind.

"Then what are you doing House?" She leaned her elbows on her desk, crossed tightly and holding the weight of her upper body on them.

"Forget it." He felt backed into a corner. He hated that feeling.

"No." She saw him moving to rise and moved faster, blocking his way. "We need to deal with this."

"There's nothing to deal with." He looked into her eyes challengingly.

She felt something wash over her, as though he were pushing his pain toward her, trying to knock her over with it. Still, she soldiered on. She had to. She didn't want to lose him. "There is something to deal with you, and if we don't deal with it soon…" it could be too late, she said in her head, unable to say it to him.

"We won't have to deal with it ever." He finished her thought in a way she hadn't intended. He tried to step around her but she cut him off again. "I have to go check on my patient."

"No you don't." She wasn't letting him go this time. Time to take the plunge. "We kissed and now everything has changed between us. You…"

"Things change…"

"No!" She held up her hand to stop him speaking. "Don't you dare tell me things change! You never change House. You…"

"I have changed Cuddy!" He was yelling now. It came on suddenly, more suddenly than he'd expected and it startled him, but he didn't stop. "I'm not the same man you met twenty years ago. I'm not the same man I was ten years ago. I've changed, you've changed. Things change." There was pain in his voice. "I'm not the man you think I am."

Fire flashed in her eyes. Did he think she was stupid? "I know you're not the same House. I wouldn't want you to be. You've grown, but you haven't changed. You're still brilliant, you still care about the puzzle above all else, you still have standards too high for anyone to ever reach and you still get under my skin every chance you get."

"You have an idealized view of me Cuddy. You always have."

"Don't tell me what I think House. You lost that right a long time ago."

"I never should have had it." He spoke softly, certain his words would only provoke her further.

She bit her lip, wanting to scream, wanting to tell him how he'd broken her heart all those years ago, but she couldn't. The balance of their relationship had always been so fragile. One move his way or hers and the whole thing threatened to shatter into a million pieces.

And now here they were, watching as it fell in slow motion, each waiting for the other to try and catch it, to save what little they had left of what could have been wonderful.

"I'm not like you House. I put my trust in people. I try to see the best in them."

"You're an idiot," he stated flatly.

"No House. You're the idiot. You've shut yourself off from the world. You think you're so much better than everyone else because you've convinced yourself that you don't need anyone. But that doesn't make you better than the rest of us. It just makes you a lonely, miserable bastard."

The words hurt her to say almost as much as they hurt him to hear. It was the cold hard truth, given voice and floating in the air between them. House fought off a thousand horrible things he could say. He was searching for the one thing that would hurt her as much as she'd just hurt him.

He snorted a sarcastic little laugh. "And you're not lonely? You go home to your big empty house every night and dream about the perfect life you're never going to have. Does that make you less miserable than me?"

She blanched as his words cut her like a knife. "At least I'm trying. I'm putting myself out there…"

"And getting hurt."

"Yes, House, I'm getting hurt, but at least I'm alive."

"Life is overrated," House spat bitterly. His life was far from what he'd imagined, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. No amount of sugar coating was going to make the pain in his leg go away. No amount of positive attitude was going to change the fact that Stacy left him.

"No House, it's not." She wasn't going to let him slip into that self deluded misery he held close like a security blanket. "I know the man you can be House, if you'd only give up this grudge you've got against the world." Her voice had gone from angry to pleading. "I know you can be more than you are and it breaks my heart to see you settle for the life you have."

"I can't be the man you want me to be Cuddy!" He snapped at her, pushing her away from him physically and verbally. "Stop trying to pretend I'm still the legend you knew in school. That man is gone. He died ten years ago. And he started dying long before that. He doesn't exist except in your school girl fantasies.

"This is me Cuddy." He waved his arms up and down before his old, haggard exterior. "And this." He waved his cane at her, almost hitting her with it. "And no amount of wishful thinking is going to change that."

"I don't want to change you." She felt defeated. "I just want you to be…happy." Even as she said it she knew how ridiculous it would sound to him.

"It's a good thing you're used to disappointment."

"Why did you kiss me House?" She had to know. She couldn't stand any more sleepless nights, lying in her bed thinking of every conceivable reason, and knowing that none of them could be right.

"Why do you care?"

She stumbled on her words. "Because I care about you House, and I don't want to lose…whatever it is that we have."

"I kissed you because you looked vulnerable and I knew you wouldn't pull away." That was part of it, anyhow.

She looked deep into his eyes for a long, breathless moment. There was truth looking back at her, and pain, and something more, hidden deep beyond her reach.

"This isn't about the kiss and you know it." House had already opened up more than he had intended. Why not go for it now, before he chickened out again?

"What is it about House?" She pleaded with him to enlighten her.

"It's about…" he tried, he really tried, he formed the words in his mouth and tried to push them out, but he couldn't say it. It was one simple word, two letters, and he couldn't say it.

She waited for what seemed an eternity. She had been waiting for longer than that. "Forget it." She turned half way around, about to walk out on him, but turned back and looked at him sadly. "I can't wait for you forever House. I need to move on with my life."

"I know." He said the words so softly even he couldn't hear them.

She waited, hoping he'd say more. It took all her will to turn around and walk out, but she had to stay true to her word. She had put her life on hold for too long, not intentionally, it wasn't that clear cut, but if she thought about it, she'd realize that she had been waiting for him to be ready for her. But while she'd been waiting, her life had slipped by.

She walked toward the door slowly, each step taking a great effort. She was walking out on a long and often painful chapter in her life. It wasn't an easy walk to make.

"Cuddy?" House's voice called to her, stopping her in her tracks. She turned back, hopeful. He hobbled toward her, wanting to reach out and touch her, hold her hand, stroke her hair. Instead he bared his soul to her in the only way he could. "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Had a strong wind blown by at that moment, it would have knocked her straight off her feet. She wanted to be angry, and part of her was, because as usual House waited until she was very nearly free then pulled her back into his orbit, but she wasn't angry. She was elated.

She looked over her shoulder, pushed a smile onto her face and said "I'd love to" in a way that indicated she wasn't really sure this was happening, but had decided to hope it was. "Thank you," she said as she left uncertainly.

House waited until he was certain she wasn't coming back then finally let out his breath. He had never actually asked a woman out before. He'd tried once, in high school, Mary Sue Parker, sweet girl next door type. He'd gotten as far as telling her she had nice hair when the star of the baseball team came over and put his arm around her. That ended that.

He didn't have to ask hookers out. Just flash them some cash and that was that. It was a business deal. No threat of rejection there. He'd yet to meet a hooker that turned down the going rate.

Stacy had asked him out. His only real significant relationship hadn't been his idea at all. She had made the first moves on him, and hadn't let go until he made it impossible for her to stay. What if he did that to Cuddy? He was going to screw this up somehow. He just knew it. He was suddenly terrified.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

House stood on her front porch staring at the doorbell. He had told Wilson a lie that involved his motorcycle, a woman clad in all leather and the hint of something illegal until Wilson stopped asking. He might have been able to use the ladies man's help tonight, but he didn't want Wilson to know about the date, not yet.

He pushed the bell and waited. He could feel the handle of his cane slick with his sweat, shifting around in his hand. He tightened his grip. The last thing he wanted was for her to open the door to him bending down to pick the damned thing up.

Cuddy jumped at the sound of the doorbell. It was a sound she'd been waiting for at least twenty minutes before he was supposed to show up, and for the twenty minutes that had passed since. She checked herself in the mirror one last time. Her hair was up in a French twist. She'd thought about wearing it down, but it looked better up with this dress, a slinky red jersey dress that hugged her in all the right spots, and showed just a peek of her leopard bra if she bent over too far.

Was it too much? Maybe he would get the wrong idea. She tugged at the deep V-neck trying to hide just a little more skin. The bell rang again.

"Coming." She called out, grabbing her coat and purse as she hurried to the door.

"What took so long?" House asked, frowning. She was already in her coat, hiding any hit of the dress beneath it. For a split second he imagined she wasn't wearing anything under it, but that Cuddy was gone under a pile of hospital paperwork and 'responsibility', but there was a time when she would have done something like that. Those had been good times.

"You're late." She smiled and walked past him. She was more nervous than she wanted to be, and the effects of that glass of wine she had half an hour ago had begun to fade long ago.

"Which is why I expected you to be ready." He leaned around her and opened the car door. His father might have been an ass, but he had taught him manners.

There were a million snarky things she could have said, but nerves got in the way. Instead of responding she simply folded herself into the red sports car and jumped slightly as he slammed the door.

"I thought I told you to get rid of this thing?" She looked with appreciation at the perfectly restored '65 Corvette that had been a gift from an unsavory patient. It was beautiful, and even she would have found it hard to part with, but she just worried that the mob might come collecting someday, and she didn't think House could refuse their offer when they did.

"And you thought I would?" House got behind the wheel and turned the key with a flourish.

"No." She was glad he didn't. It really was a nice ride. "We should go. We're already twenty minutes late."

"Whatever you say boss." House sped off.

They rode in a fairly awkward silence. House had the radio on, but it was tuned to nothing in particular and the song that they were both ignoring was something neither was familiar with anyway. Cuddy gazed out the window as House focused on the road.

House began to hum to the next song, some Top 40 hit that was played about twenty times a day on the radio and MTV. He didn't bother learning the words, knowing the song would be gone in a week, but it had a passable beat, and it gave him something to do other than worry about how bad his breath might smell.

After a long and silent eternity they found themselves sitting at a small round table in the corner of a draped, candlelit restaurant, staring at one another.

Cuddy picked up her glass of Seven and Seven and took a long slow sip. Her eyes tilted up through the bit of hair that draped across her brow and she watched him. He looked nice tonight. He was wearing black pants and a sport jacket, which, that alone showed how serious he was about this date. He was also wearing her favorite shirt. He hadn't worn it in a while and she's assumed he got rid of it for some reason, but the rich, cobalt blue fabric matched his eyes almost perfectly.

"I really like that shirt on you." She smiled awkwardly. She hadn't thought this would be so hard, or that she'd be this nervous.

"You look nice too." He was distracted. He wanted the night to be special, and like most people who try too hard, he was losing focus of the moment he was in as his mind plotted out the moments to come. "Excuse me." He pulled himself up and hobbled away.

Cuddy watched him leave, wondering what she'd said. A minute later she summoned the waiter over and ordered another drink. She got one for House too. His glass was looking pretty empty.

The restaurant wasn't too crowded. It was Wednesday, a strange night for a date, but both House and Cuddy seemed to want to get it over with before either of them could change their minds. She heard the blurred sound of voices, the sound of half a dozen secret conversations all melding into one. The chink of glasses and silver hitting china gave a musical lilt to the atmosphere.

It really was a nice restaurant. One of those places she'd always meant to get around to, but never had the right opportunity. She was secretly pleased that House was the one she finally came with. She was really hoping to see a side of him she hadn't seen before…at least not in a long time.

Their earlier fight weighed on her mind. She hadn't meant to say those things to him, even if she did believe them. He was dealing with a pain she could not comprehend. Who was she to judge how he tried to lessen it?

But he wasn't lessening it. That was what drove her crazy. If anything, withdrawing himself from everything only added to his pain, almost like he was trying to punish himself more than fate had already punished him. But for what? What had he done that was so horrible that he felt he had to live this way? She wished she could ask him. If she could only look him in the eye and ask him why he chose to be so unhappy.

"I'm back," he said pointlessly. It was pretty obvious he was back when he dropped down into his seat, drained the remainder of his old drink and started in on the new one Cuddy had ordered for him. "Thanks. That was very thoughtful."

"I thought you'd need it." She sighed.

"Well, since I'm trapped with you for the evening, you thought right."

She glared at him, but didn't say anything. "Where'd you go?"

"Had to make a call, tell the hooker I'd be running late." He was forcing the snark a little too hard. He could feel it and tried to pull it back. "I had to use the bathroom."

"I liked your first excuse better. It was more creative." She didn't believe either story, even though the bathroom one was quite plausible.

"I'll keep that in mind."

The silence fell upon them again like a blanket heavy from the rain. Cuddy swirled her drink in her hand, watching the melting ice cubes dance around.

"Any news about Carly?" Cuddy was fishing for something to talk about.

"We're not talking about work." House put his metaphorical foot down. They talked about work all day at work. This was their time. Time to get to know each other without work hanging over their heads.

"Then what do you want to talk about?" She felt the date slipping away fast. She was trying hard to catch it, but every time she got just a small piece of it, House yanked it away again.

"Did you catch the last episode of Grey's Anatomy?"

"No."

"Callie is totally getting it on with that bitch Hahn. Hmmm, I wonder if 13 watches…"

"If we're not talking about work we're not talking about your team." Especially Hadley.

"Can we talk about your underwear? I noticed, when you took your coat off, you're wearing your leopard bra. I've heard that women only wear that kind of thing when they expect someone to see it."

"And you saw it." She cut him off from that line of thinking quickly. She had no intention of sleeping with him tonight. Not that that meant anything. She'd had no intention of sleeping with him the night of that convention either.

"I plan on finding out if you're wearing a matching thong." He leaned back, enjoying the old banter that was familiar between them.

"I am. Mystery solved." She took a sip of her drink, realized it was the last sip and looked at her date. He raised his hand to wave over the waiter and ordered another round.

"Food's here." House unfolded his napkin and placed it in his lap without looking. His eyes were fixed on his date.

The chef came out and bowed to them before presenting Cuddy with a plate of Fettuccini Alfredo. "I heard it is your favorite," he said with a bow.

Cuddy had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling too brightly. "This wasn't on the menu."

The chef looked at House before he spoke. "It was a special request made on your behalf by a very special man."

For a moment she thought she was going to cry. It was such a sweet gesture. "Thank you. It looks lovely."

"As do you," the Chef excused himself with another bow and went back to the kitchen and to his work.

"How did you do this?" She asked, rudely diving into her fresh, specially made fettuccini.

"I'm just that good," he said, digging into his own penne all'aribbiata.

Cuddy watched him for a moment, the small smile that she sometimes got when he did something particularly touching lit up her face. Men had done things like this for her before. She'd dated some pretty influential, powerful men, all of whom tried to impress her with surprise dinners in Paris or tickets to sold-out plays or whatever they could do to get in her pants. Yet somehow all those private jets and VIP treatments paled in comparison to this one simple dish of pasta.

House felt her eyes on him, burning into the top of his head where the hair had decided to boycott his head and refused to grow. "What?" He looked up and made a face at her.

"It's delicious." She realized she was quite moony eyed and quickly looked down at her plate.

"It aught to be." He wasn't going to tell her, but he'd had to pull quite a big string to get that bowl of pasta, and if she didn't eat the whole thing he was going to make her take it home in a doggy bag and was going to make sure she finished every last noodle.

"How's yours?" She wanted to keep a conversation going, and though this was weak conversation material, it was better than the silence.

"It'd be better if you'd let me eat it while it's hot." He wanted to talk to her, but he was also trying to avoid talking to her. He was a very conflicted man, and she looked so hot in that dress, and his eyes kept dropping to her cleavage as his mind kept wandering to the last time he'd held those milky white breasts in his masterful hands.

House had never been able to think clearly around beautiful women. His libido was the only thing that could match his massive genius and he liked to give it plenty of room to breath.

"Please, don't let me stop you."

Again they fell silent. This time they had the comfort of good food to fill the awkwardness. They took turns looking up at one another when the other was focused on their plate. Each time they tried fruitlessly to formulate something witty to say. Several minutes passed before either one of them came up with something.

"Another drink?" House asked, looking at her melted ice cubes.

"Yes, thank you." Cuddy nodded politely.

It was painfully clear that they were both trying to avoid talking about anything of any importance. Neither of them wanted to risk a fight in the middle of a restaurant a third full of strangers. Instead they talked about weather, and sports and House's car. Nothing worth remembering by the end of the night.

House finally paid the bill and escorted her to the car. "We can't go on like this," he said getting in the drivers seat.

"Agreed," but she was going to wait to hear his thoughts before she said more.

"The kiss screwed things up between us and I can only see one way to resolve this." He started the engine.

"Yes?" She had spend the past couple weeks trying to think of a way to resolve this, so if he had any ideas, she was more than willing to hear them.

"We're just going to have to cut the bullshit and screw." He pulled away from the curb quickly, sending her head back against the headrest. That and his words left her feeling unsettled.

"I don't have sex on the first date." She had made up her mind before the date even started.

"Since when?" He was so shocked he nearly swerved into the other lane as his head snapped over to look at her. He'd never seen a bold faced liar up close before.

"Since right now."

"You're making a big mistake." He kept trying. She was buzzed, possibly drunk, and it was only a matter of time before he wore down her resolve.

"Sleeping with you tonight would be a big mistake." She wanted to sleep with him, to feel his strong hands caressing her naked flesh, to feel the weight of his long, lean torso pressed down on hers, to feel him pulsating inside of her, filling the emptiness.

"Look. You like sex, I like sex. You're good at it, I'm great at it. I don't see the problem." He turned onto State Street. It was late and the streets were empty. Cuddy stared out the window, watching the streetlamps flash by one by one, counting them to keep her mind clear of the impure thoughts racing through it.

She wanted him. She wanted him so bad she could almost feel him touching her, feel his hand slipping up her leg, pulling her thighs apart as his long fingers searched for paradise… "House!" She pushed his hand away just as the tip of his index finger brushed against the silk of her leopard panties.

"Damn!" House put his hand back on the steering wheel and waited for her to become distracted again. "Why won't you have sex with me woman?"

"I can't…not tonight." She had promised herself.

"It's not that time of month." He knew because he tracked it. He tracked it so he'd know when to avoid her more than he usually avoided her at work.

"How…never mind." It was pointless to ask. "Sleeping together isn't going to solve whatever problems we have. It will only make things worse." She thought of last time.

"You don't know that. It could solve everything." He didn't really care at the moment if it solved things or made them worse. He just wanted to get laid.

He could smell her; that overtly feminine smell of a woman in heat. It was the smell of pheromones, and there was a simple, scientific explanation for it and his reaction to it, but not enough blood was flowing to his brain for him to recall what that was.

He wanted to pull the car over and tear her clothes off. He wanted to ravage her like a savage. He wanted it dirty and hot and sweaty and primal.

He pulled the car over.

"What are you doing?" Cuddy looked around. They were now parked beside a small municipal park. It was deserted at this time of night and she had a bad feeling her willpower was about to betray her.

"What I should have done years ago." He grabbed her face in his hands and pulled her toward him. He kissed her again. It was sloppy and wet, the kiss of two horny drunks, hungry for the taste of one another, desperate for a physical connection.

She kissed back, her mouth sucking on his, her tongue slipping its way deep inside his mouth. He tasted of whiskey and onions, but she didn't mind. It was the taste beyond that, the taste of him that she craved.

House slipped his hand between the deep V of her dress. It was a soft, malleable material and gave easily. He hoped he wasn't imagining her moan as his fingers slipped beneath that sexy leopard bra and slipped over her hardened nipple.

Cuddy shut her eyes, not wanting to distract from the feeling of his touch. She was quite aware of the way her body was betraying her by responding to him even though she'd sworn not to. She moaned softly in the dim light of the streetlamp, her mouth still pressed against his, her moan sending a ripple down his spine.

House's free hand, the one not caressing her firm, pert breast, slipped behind her head and pulled at her perfect chignon. With the ability of a man still nimble despite the alcohol raging through him, pulled the pins out of her hair and let it fall. He regretted it as it broke the spell.

Cuddy pulled away. "I can't do this. Not tonight." She was almost crying.

"Why?" He looked hurt. It was more than just wounded pride, or a disappointed libido. Her rejection hit him at his core.

"I don't want another one night stand." She had to stand up for her own fragile heart.

"It doesn't have to be one night." He tried to smile, lighten the mood, but he knew it was pointless.

"No. But it still wouldn't be enough." She looked out the window as her hands straightened out her dress. "I need more than this House. Look at us? Two highly accomplished adults, and we're making out in a Corvette on the side of the road."

"So?" House had been quite enjoying making out in a Corvette on the side of the road.

"So? I want more. I want a relationship. I want to know you're here for more than just sex. I need someone who is willing to share their life with me." She looked at him hopefully. If ever there was a time for him to step up, this was it.

House felt his chest tighten. He, too, knew that this was the moment. She was asking him if he was ready for a relationship. She was practically begging him to say yes. All he had to do was say he wanted to be with her, that he loved her.

Both of those things were true. He did love her. He'd been fooling himself into thinking he only wanted her, but he loved her. He needed her. And he wanted to be with her. He wanted to wake up beside her, and comfort her when she was down, and share her joys with her. But he didn't know how to do those things. He just didn't know how.

"You deserve those things Cuddy." He turned the key in the ignition and pulled back out onto the road.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She shook her head, thinking, somehow, that the words might make sense if she gave them a little jolt. They didn't.

House remained silent, watching the road intently.

"House?" She pleaded. "Talk to me."

"And say what? That I can't give you what you want? That you should get over me and move on? Or do you want me to lie and whisper sweet nothings into your ear so we can spend the night getting sweaty and pretending there's a future for us with the big U and an exclamation point?"

"Stop the car." He stopped the car and locked the door as soon as he realized her intentions. "Let me out!" She pushed the button to unlock the door but he pushed his immediately after, locking it again. They repeated this several times before she turned to him. "Let me out."

"We're nowhere near your house." He might be angry, he might be bitterly disappointed, but he wasn't going to let her go wondering around Princeton in the middle of the night slightly buzzed and extremely pissed off.

"I don't care House. Let me go."

Those final three words hit him. They hit him hard. "I can't," he whispered. He meant it in a much bigger way than simply letting her out of the car, but she took advantage of that moment of realization, a moment he hadn't shared with her and that she was unaware of, and got out of the car.

She slammed the door hard and pulled out her mobile. "I'm calling a cab House. You can go now." She didn't mean those words in the bigger sense that he'd meant his.

House pulled away, but he didn't go far. He stopped just out of view and waited for her cab to arrive. He followed it to her house and parked across the street, watching her pay the driver and head into her home, alone.

Cuddy was in tears before she got her coat off. She collapsed, coat still on one arm, onto the floor and sobbed.

House went home to his small, empty apartment and downed a bottle of bourbon and half a bottle of Vicodin.


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry for the long delay in getting the next chapter up but I'm American and was busy gorging myself on turkey and stuffing and all kinds of pretty intoxicating drinks in celebration of stealing the country from it's original inhabitants.

Anyhow, I'm back, and hopefully will wrap this story up before I leave for vacation on Saturday.

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN**

It was nearly noon by the time House rolled into work, still in the clothes he'd worn the night before. His hair stuck out in several places and his breath smelled like stale alcohol. The glare of the florescent lighting caused him to keep his sunglasses on. He had thought about not coming in. He wasn't going to call in sick, he just wasn't going to show up at all, not until he was damned well ready, but a constant flow of calls from Wilson and his team, beginning around ten, had forced him into the realization that if he didn't show up, someone was going to show up on his doorstep, and he couldn't think of a single person he wanted to see on his doorstep…well, there was one, but there was no way she'd come.

"Rough night?" Wilson caught him just before he reached his office.

"What gave it away?" House asked, turning into Wilson's office instead of proceeding to his own. He was not looking forward to facing her, not after last night.

"Well, it was either a really good night, or a really bad night, and based on your lack of post coital glow, I'd say it was a bad one."

"You are an astute man Dr. Wilson." House bowed his head and told Wilson the Crib Note version of the night before.

"Woah! Back up! You went out on a date with Cuddy? Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I just did." House reached over and took the Starbucks cup off Wilson's desk. He took a long, satisfying pull from it then put it back down in front of himself instead of Wilson.

"Help yourself," Wilson said pointlessly. "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday." House was barely monosyllabic so such a big word had worn him out. He took another chug of coffee then slouched back in the chair.

"You went out with her yesterday. When did you ask her out?"

"Yesterday," House said again.

Wilson looked at his sunken eyed friend. "You don't ask a woman out for that night. You should have asked her for this weekend."

"I didn't want to give her time to back out." It sounded stupid now, since backing out would have been far preferable to what happened.

"So? What happened?" Wilson was as eager as a schoolgirl for all the nasty details.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"You're not a gentleman House." Wilson was positively giddy.

"If I tell you, I'll have to kill you."

"It's okay. I've got nothing to live for right now." Wilson was mostly joking.

"I'll tell you if you promise, in writing, to do my clinic duty for a week." House grabbed the notepad neatly placed in the corner of Wilson's desk and began to write out the contract. When he was done he slid it over to Wilson for signature.

Wilson read it over, trusting House as much as House trusted him, then scribbled his name on the line House had dashed across the bottom of the page. "Now spill."

"We made out in my car," House said, putting a pretty face on the ugly truth.

"And?" Wilson wanted more. He wanted details. He wanted descriptions that would rival the most graphic of romance novels.

"And I think I'm in love with her," House said rather profoundly.

"Yeah, but what happened?" That was old news.

"I profess my love for the woman we've been salivating over for years and that's all the reaction I get?" House was sourly disappointed. He thought Wilson the romantic would give him more than that.

"House, you're the only one who didn't know you were in love with her. So, kudos for catching up." Wilson spun his index finger around in the air in a celebratory circle. "Now tell me what happened after the making out."

"I took her home." A bold faced lie, but one that didn't change things.

"That's it?"

"That's it." House drained the coffee cup and aimed it toward the trash can. With one toss it landed squarely in the small bin.

"Then why do you look like you spent the night wrestling a serpent?"

The truth was that House had spent the night wrestling a serpent, the one in his pants. "She likes it rough."

"But you said all you did was drop her off at home."

"Ah, you caught me." House was now fumbling with Wilson's pen, spinning it round and round on the desk like a miniature game of spin the bottle.

"Are you trying, in your oh so subtle way to tell me that you don't want to talk about it?"

"Are you actually taking a hint?"

Wilson changed the subject. He talked about the movie he saw last night, and about the menu selection today and what he planned on getting for lunch. He talked about this girl he met at the story last night. She was young and pretty, his favorite kind. He planned on meeting up with her for coffee on Sunday.

"Who's idea was it to meet on Sunday?"

"Hers? Why?" Wilson didn't see anything wrong with it.

"She didn't want to meet you on Friday or Saturday?"

"Said she was busy."

"She's lying. She just doesn't want to have to make an excuse not to meet you again this weekend if it goes badly."

"Really?" Wilson had never heard that one.

"Oh yeah. Face it; she's just not that into you."

"You haven't even met her."

"Don't have to. I've met you."

"You haven't seen Cuddy since last night?" Wilson couldn't help himself. He watched quietly as House got up and stormed out, then he went back to doing his job.

House stopped and stared through the glass into his office. A flood of emotions rushed over him. He was willing himself to raise his hand, to press it against the cool glass and push. He envisioned it in his mind long before he went through the motions.

He had expected to find her sitting there, perhaps ignoring him, or perhaps trying to make him talk about what happened. What he hadn't expected to find was nothing. She wasn't there. Her desk wasn't there either, or her computer, her paperwork, her chair. As a matter of fact, there was no sign that she had ever shared his office with him. His heart sunk.

Cuddy watched as Miguel and Doug positioned her desk carefully in front of the large rounded window. "Perfect." She smiled at the two young men approvingly. Miguel had been working for the hospital for a year and a half. Doug was new, but seemed like a hard worker. He had a record, and was on probation, but he had been open and honest about it and she had decided to give him a chance.

"Will there be anything else Dr. Cuddy?" Doug seemed almost in awe of her. He was determined that she would not regret hiring him to the point that he sometimes over did the enthusiasm. Today he seemed to have it under control.

"Yes. Thank you." She watched them exit, then stood in the center of her office, glad to be home, but she couldn't shake the sadness that tugged at her as she looked around and saw nothing but her own things.

There was no giant fuzzy tennis ball to force off the side of the desk with the pile of folders she placed very specifically for that purpose. There was no set of iPod speakers pointed toward her blasting annoying music as she tried to make calls. And no red coffee mug leaving rings on the front of important legal documents. She should be happy to have peace and quiet, but she missed him.

House made his way around his desk and sat down. It was still the same overpriced ergonomic chair he always sat in, but it wasn't as comfortable as it had been yesterday. He twisted his back until it cracked and that helped a little, but he still felt miserable. He wadded up a sticky note he'd left the night before and was about to toss it at her cleavage when he remembered her cleavage wasn't there. He dropped the small ball onto his desk then pushed it to the floor with his hand.

He picked up a pen and began flipping it between his fingers. Index finger then ring finger, index finger then ring finger… it fell to the desk. He cursed and left it there.

His coffee cup, which she'd put back on his desk (he had left it on something important looking on her desk) was empty. He tipped it upside down to make sure.

He got up and shuffled into the diagnostics meeting room attached to his office. Crap. They were all there.

"Dr. House?" Kutner looked up from a chart.

"Dr. Kutner?" House queried back.

"You're here." Kutner was surprised that's all.

"You're here." House shuffled over to the coffee maker and poured some of the brown liquid into his cup.

"If you're done mimicking Kutner, you might spare a moment for your patient." 13 always sounded like she was trying to be badass. House was not impressed. She tried too hard.

"Nah. All My Children starts in ten minutes." House took his coffee and headed back to his office.

"Why do you bother?" He heard Kutner say. Kutner was a good kid.

"Because it's his job." Hadley got up and stormed into his office.

"It's not Bianca's baby," House stated.

Hadley shook her head. "What?"

"Oh, I thought you wanted to talk to me about something important." House knew exactly what she wanted to talk to him about. He just liked yanking her chain.

"I do. Carly Peterson is barely breathing. Her throat is swollen, she still has a rash over three quarters of her body…"

"So she's improving." House was barely listening. He'd grabbed the file out of her hands and could read everything she was telling him in black and white, without the moral indignation that came with listening to her voice.

"Didn't you hear me House? She can't breath."

"You said she was barely breathing. When did that get upgraded to can't breath?"

Hadley fumed.

"Besides, she had the rash over 100% of her body yesterday, so 75% is an improvement. Or did you like the rash?" He finally looked up at her, and she didn't like the malicious look in his eyes. "Did the rash turn you on?"

His words, and the tone in which he spoke them worked. She turned and stormed out. He closed his eyes for a long moment, then got up and headed for Carly's room.

Cuddy got more work done in the fifteen minutes since she'd sat down at her desk in _her_ office than she'd gotten done all day yesterday in House's office. She was burying herself in her work. She looked up at the clock when she heard the knock at the door. Dr. Morris was prompt as always.

"Hi Kat."

"Lisa." Caroline Morris was a tall, slender woman around Cuddy's age, give or take a couple years. She was married with three children, a lawyer husband, an SUV and a golden retriever. Her life was perfect. Cuddy hated her.

"I'm afraid I don't have good news." Dr. Morris was the head of Obstetrics and wanted to expand her staff by two Attendings and three Residents. She was also asking to expand her Intern pool by a dozen or so.

"I didn't expect you to." Caroline smiled her sickly sweet smile, her perfect white teeth gleamed at Cuddy accusingly.

"Was there something else you wanted then?" It was a careful tightrope Cuddy was walking. Caroline Morris was a powerful ally, not because she was the best doctor or had the longest tenure, but because she wasn't opposed to using every weapon in her arsenal to get what she wanted. Her beauty was lost on Cuddy and she knew it, but it wasn't lost on several members of the Board, who's support Cuddy needed in order to enforce her decisions.

"I wanted to give you this in person." Dr. Morris pulled a sheet of paper out of the folder she was carrying and handed it to her boss.

Cuddy tried very hard not to smile triumphantly as she read the letter of resignation. "Are you certain you want to leave?" Cuddy remained as professional as possible.

"You can't give me what I need. I've accepted a position at General. They are better equipped to meet my needs."

You needy bitch, Cuddy thought, biting away a grin. "When will you be leaving us?"

"I am a professional Dr. Cuddy. I am giving you the courtesy of two weeks notice."

Gee thanks, Cuddy said in her head. "That is very thoughtful Dr. Morris. Thank you. And good luck in your new position."

"I won't need it." Dr. Morris rose and floated out on a cloud of self importance.

"Bitch," Cuddy said, finally able to state her feelings out loud now that she was alone.

"You shouldn't talk about yourself that way…even if it is true."

Cuddy jumped three inches out of her chair at the sound of his voice.

"What do you want House?" She finally collected herself enough to ask him.

House stared at her for a long time. He had put far more into her words than she had intended. What did he want? What was he willing to allow himself to want? What could he admit to wanting without getting his heart destroyed?

"House, I'm busy." Cuddy was oblivious to his internal struggle. She couldn't hear the dialog going on inside his head. All she knew was that if she stood there looking at her like that for much longer she would start to cry.

"Did you take the red pen off my desk?" He made something up quickly to cover up the real reason he'd gone to see her.

"What red pen?" Cuddy was mentally scratching her head. What was he going on about?

"Forget it. I'll steal one of Wilson's." House turned and left as abruptly as he'd entered, leaving Cuddy to wonder why he'd really shown up in the first place.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Cuddy shook her head, trying to make sense of House's latest interruption, but no sense would come. Then she set back to work trying to ignore the nagging questions in her mind, but ignorance escaped her. Had she gotten up and followed him, she'd have found House standing outside her door, just beyond her view.

That had gone badly. He wasn't sure what he'd meant to say or do when he burst into her office, but he knew it had nothing to do with a red pen. He didn't even have a red pen, at least, he didn't remember having one. If he did it was lost somewhere in the jumble of office supplies strewn about his desk drawer, unused.

He had meant to ask why she'd left him but he knew the answer to that, so it seemed pointless to ask. She left his office because she couldn't stand being around him. He didn't blame her. He'd made her one day with him a living hell, and before last night he'd intended on making today even more hellish.

Then the light bulb went off and House scurried away.

Cuddy was in the middle of a meeting with the head of the Medical Review Board. It was nothing more than a yearly meeting, no crisis had arisen that gave the Board reason to doubt Cuddy's abilities as head of PPTH. Nothing House had done had sent them rushing to her office in protest. Nothing, yet.

A knock on the door seemed innocent enough, so Cuddy bade the knocker entry.

"Dr. Cuddy, there's an officer Dixon to see you." Linda seemed nervous as her eyes darted from Cuddy to the stuffy looking older man with the slightly bulging stomach and more than slightly balding head.

"Can it wait?" Cuddy knew it couldn't or Linda wouldn't have interrupted in the first place. The question was just a pretense to show the blowhard across from her that he was her first priority.

"He says it's urgent." Poor dear Linda was instructed to show him in, and she did.

Office Dixon was a tall, well built man with smooth dark skin and a wide grin. "Dr. Cuddy, do you have a doctor in your employ by the name of Gregory House?" He had to look down at his pad to get the name right.

Cuddy's heart sunk. What had House done now? "Yes," she said tentatively. She might have lied had Carson Bentley not been sitting across from her with a list of employees on his lap. She saw him scanning through the names quickly. "If you're here to arrest him, he's on the second floor. When you get off the elevators take a right and follow the signs to Diagnostics." House was going to have to fend for himself today. She was tired of cleaning up his messes.

"Actually, I've come for you." Officer Dixon smiled as he removed his hat and tossed it into Bentley's lap.

Cuddy's eyes grew wide as her mind processed the police officer who was now slowly unbuttoning his crisp blue shirt as he walked toward her with a swagger that could only belong to an experienced stripper.

"Oh good God," she groaned, her hand rushing to her cheek to make sure she wasn't blushing. "You can't do that now."

"Is this some sort of joke?" Bentley asked, rising to his feet and huffily dropping the policeman's hat on Cuddy's desk.

"I assure you, I have no idea what this is." Cuddy also rose, or tried to, but the Officer pushed her back into her chair as he attempted to mount her.

"Enough!" She demanded. "I don't know how much House paid you to do this, but I'll pay you twice as much to stop, right now!"

"Are you in the habit of paying off strippers at work Dr. Cuddy?" Bentley stared at her harshly, like the bright light of an interrogation room shining down into her face.

"This has never happened before Dr. Bentley," that part was true. She had never had a stripper in her office when a member of the Medical Review Board was present. There was that one time, when she'd first gotten the job, that her dear friend Sandra had hired her a candy striper stripper to celebrate, but only Sandra had been there for that.

"And I'm going to make damned sure it never happens again." Bentley had picked up his coat and briefcase and was headed out the door. "You will be hearing from us soon Dr. Cuddy." It was a threat.

Dixon had stood quietly and watched the proceedings with interest. "Does this mean you don't want me to finish the dance?"

"No." Cuddy snapped harshly.

Dixon was fine with not dancing. He was getting paid either way and Princeton wasn't cheap. He grabbed his discarded hat and left.

House had gone to see Carly. He dragged his feet over it, not wanting to face her. She was the one who'd forced him to ask Cuddy out in the first place. This was all her fault. "This is all your fault," he proclaimed as he stormed into her room.

She looked horrible. Her skin was a pale, sickly green, her eyes rimmed red and watery, her lips practically vanished into her skin because of the lack of color in them.

House was stopped in his tracks and felt a strange pang of guilt at his entrance.

"Dr. House," she whispered hoarsely. "What's all my fault?"

"Nothing." He said, and sat by her bed. He reviewed her chart but it didn't do justice to the young woman wasting away before his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, barely audibly.

"For what?" Carly was confused, but she figured it was do more to her medication than any cryptic behavior on House's part.

"I don't know what's wrong with you." In his twenty plus years as a doctor there had only been three cases he had never solved. Three cases that haunted him to this day. Three riddles he'd never found an answer to. He didn't want Carly to be the fourth.

"You'll figure it out," she said weakly. She had complete trust in Dr. House. His team of doctors assured her that he was the best. The nurse's spoke of him like he was a god, not a particularly nice and loving god, but a god none the less. She knew he would solve this riddle before she died.

"I'll try." He wasn't one for giving false hope unless it was to manipulate his patient into fighting, but Carly was a fighter. She didn't need his pep talks. She needed his medical expertise, and all he could think about was Cuddy. "Damn!" He slammed his cane on the ground sharply.

"What's wrong?" Carly would have jumped, but her body couldn't react that quickly. Instead she slowly turned her head to look at him with the swift speed of a turtle looking to its side for no particular reason. She saw something in his eyes. She almost thought it was a tear, but it wasn't. It was pain though, clear as day and hard to look at.

She stared at him, hoping to somehow absorb some of it. She didn't like to see Dr. House in pain. It was somehow worse than seeing anyone else in pain. Perhaps it was something to do with the clarity of his eyes, that pained expression seemed so much more powerful in those clear blue eyes. She thought she might be developing a crush on him, but laughed it off. He was far too old for crushes. He was older than her father even. She wrinkled her nose a bit.

House watched her watching him. He knew she was looking beyond what the normal person would see. The normal person would dismiss the hurt expression for more leg pain, the typical physical pain one expected to affect a man more than anything emotional. But she saw deeper, and it frightened him.

"I asked Cuddy out like you wanted." He blurted it out, trying to distract her from rummaging through his soul.

"Oh, and?" She lit up, as well as a nearly dead girl can light up, but the change was startling, like watching life poured back into a corpse. Then she saw the look in his eyes again and realized where the pain was coming from. "What happened?" She asked, more consolatory than excited.

"We fought." House didn't need to shower Carly with flowery words. She was a straight forward young woman. She would have seen through his bullshit easily.

"What about?" Carly was genuinely interested. It had started out as wanting gossip, something to hear about when her soaps weren't on, but it had become more than that. She had come to care about this man who was trying so hard to take care of her. She knew he didn't feel the same way, that he couldn't. If he got attached to his patients he wouldn't be able to do his job, but she didn't mind. He was going to save her life, and that was enough.

"She wants a relationship," House grumbled. The truth, if he ever bothered to tell himself, was that he wanted one too.

"You're very lucky." Carly had wanted a relationship once, with Ned Parker. Ned only wanted to sleep with cheerleader Buffy Saunders. Carly had her heart broken for real for the very first time.

"I don't feel lucky." House leaned back in the chair. Carly was easy to talk to. She didn't judge him, she didn't lecture him, she just listened, and she seemed to understand as well as a teenage girl could understand such things.

"Because you screwed it up?" it was obvious.

"Of course I screwed it up. That's what I do."

"Well, unscrew it." It seemed perfectly logical to her. You mess something up you need to go and fix it.

"How?" He was really asking. He wanted someone to come and hand him a book that told him everything he needed to know about relationships. No one seemed to want to give him that book, and he was too proud to ask, until now.

"I can't tell you what to do unless you tell me what happened, all of it." Carly made herself as comfortable as she could. The IV prevented her from really being comfortable, and a hospital bed really was no place for comfort, but she gave it a try and found a not entirely uncomfortable position in which to listen to his story.

When House was done telling her all the grizzly details, she thought about it for a moment. "You need to tell her the truth. Tell her what you're really feelings. Don't pretend you're this big tough guy, don't make her come to you. You've got to go to her, sweep her off her feet, be heroic."

"Life isn't a fairytale," House grumbled some more.

Carly glared at him and he saw something in her eyes he hadn't seen there before. She was angry. The anger brought a pink flush to her ashen face and brightened her watery, sleepy eyes for a moment. "Do you really think I believe in fairytales Dr. House? Because I don't remember reading the one where the Princess gets some mysterious disease that not even the greatest wizard in the world can fix, and I don't recall the Princess dying before she's even had a chance to live. So, I know life isn't a fairytale Dr. House, but that doesn't mean you can't have a happy ending."

"Death is the universal ending," House said defeated.

She sighed and the effort of her sign made her body deflate a little more. Still she soldiered on. She believed in him, even if he didn't. "I get it. There are no happy endings. But I'm not talking about the end of your life. I'm talking about your love story."

"I don't have a love story."

"Only because you refuse to have one." She wanted to smack him upside the head like she'd seen her mother do to her father every time he got in one of his moods. She wanted to make him snap out of it. "Dr. Cuddy loves you."

"You don't even know her."

"I know what you've told me. I know that she's put up with a lot more from you than any woman I know would do, so she's either a Saint, or she really likes you."

"She's not a saint," House mumbled.

"Exactly. So that means she likes you. Go talk to her. Tell her you're scared. She's probably scared too." Carly was scared. She was scared she was going to die. She was scared that she'd never feel a guy's arms around her, or his lips on hers. She was scared that she would never hear the words 'I love you' from anyone who didn't share her blood. She was scared she wouldn't graduate from school, and get a real job and get married and have children. House's fear seemed pale in comparison.

House had never said the words 'I'm scared' to another living soul, not even when he'd snuck downstairs at the age of eight to watch Psych from behind the couch and then spent two days afraid to use the bathroom for fear that Norman Bates was hiding behind the shower curtain.

Carly took his silence for what it was, a refusal to do what she'd said. She couldn't take it any more. "Oh My God! You're so pathetic. This woman likes you, and you like her. What's your problem?"

"It's not that simple. Grownups are more complex than that."

"Oh please! Don't give me that. I've been around grownups all my life and if they're complex, it's only because they make things complicated. She likes you. She wouldn't have gone out with you if she didn't. I'm worried about whether or not I'm going to wake up ever again, and you're all pissy because you might get turned down by a woman?"

"Don't compare our issues. Dying or not, you'll lose."

"At least I haven't given up. Only losers give up." Her father had always told her that. When she'd wanted to give up soccer because her team hadn't won a game all season he told her she was only a loser if she walked away. He taught her it was better to fight and lose than to just hand over the prize.

"I feel sorry for you Dr. House. You are so close to having what you want and you won't even reach your hand out to take it. You just sit there hoping it will fall into your lap. Well, in the immortal words of YOU, life isn't a fairytale, and we aren't Princes and Princesses. We have to fight for what we want. I'm fighting for my life. What are you fighting for?"

House thought about this. "I'm fighting for the answer." It was true. He could have said something insincere like he was fighting for her life, but she would know it was a lie. It was the answer that fueled him. It had always been the answer that pushed him further than he thought he could go.

"That's sad." She frowned at him. "While you're obsessing about the ending, you're missing your own story." She was fading. He saw it in her eyes. First they glassed over and stared into nothing, then her mouth went slack. House leaned in to make sure she was still breathing. She was.

He sighed heavily and sat back down. Was he missing his own story? What was there really to miss? He was a miserable crippled with no friends, expect Wilson, and no family, though there was his mother, but he didn't talk to her. He had no one in his life, though he might have Cuddy if he let her in.

He slammed his fist on the arm of the chair. He'd just solved the case.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

House burst into the lab and surveyed his Team. Hadley and Taub were bent over a urine specimen, checking it through the microscope for any foreign objects. Foreman was once again looking at the results of the MRI while Kutner played with tubes of blood.

"We missed the story," House proclaimed like it was groundbreaking news.

"Huh?" Kutner put a vial back on the rack and stared at his boss, mouth hung open slightly.

"The story? The progression!" He stared at his team, trying to mentally push the right answer into their heads. "There is a storyline to her illness." He gave up. "You people have no imagination." He walked over to Foreman and pulled the Sharpie out of the younger man's pocket then hobbled over to the white wall at the far end of the room.

He started writing on the wall. "She started with a sore throat." He wrote sore throat on the wall. Looked at it carefully, the wrote 'once upon a time there was a' before it. "That throat was so sore she took medicine for it." He wrote the long, complicated name of the medication given to her by her family doctor under 'sore throat'. "Only after taking that medication, she began to get a rash." He drew a weird amoeba shaped blob and wrote 'rash' inside it. "Not long after the rash, she stopped talking and her parents brought her here. So, what do we know from that?" He put the cap on his sharpie and turned to look at his team.

"It all started with a sore throat?" Kutner ventured a guess.

"Yeah…and…"

"The other symptoms resulted from treatments for the sore throat." Taub added.

"Ding ding, give that boy a prize…but nothing too expensive. It was kind of an obvious answer. In fact, instead of giving him a prize, you should all be punished for not thinking of it first. So, spankings all around." He looked directly at Hadley and held up his cane.

"So, we're treating a sore throat?" Hadley ignored his little barb and carried on.

"We would have been, had she come to us when she only had a sore throat."

"An infection?" Kutner asked.

"What kind of infection?" House tried to pull it out of someone.

"A bad one," Kutner said simply.

"Right, so, let's treat her for a bad infection…"

"It's not an allergy. We ran all the tests…" Hadley informed him.

"No, it's not. But the condition she had was aggravated by the drugs she took for the sore throat." House was glad he had to do all the work himself. It was distracting him from other things.

"Hypothyroidism." Hadley had gone over all the symptoms sorting them between before and after the medication.

"She's not depressed." House countered.

"Depression is a mental effect. She could be faking." Kutner tried to help his colleague.

"She's faking not being depressed?" Taub wasn't buying it.

"It's not Hypothyroidism," Foreman said, his arms folded over his chest as he watched the children play.

House lost himself in diagnosing. It was the one thing that could take his mind off Cuddy. It was his sanctuary.

Cuddy had no such sanctuary. She tried to lose herself in her work, but everything she did reminded her of House. She called the Medical Review Board and apologized for House's little joke. She explained that it was a prank and asked to meet with a different member of the Board on Tuesday of next week. An appointment was made and she hung up.

Her next task was to organize her drawers back to the way she liked them. Maintenance had tried to put things in the right spot, but they didn't know how she liked to have the photo of her climbing Mt. Washington facing slightly toward her desk so when she felt like she wasn't going to complete a project, she could look at that picture for inspiration. They had no idea that the small globe she kept at the corner of her desk near her monitor was a gift from her father before he passed away. It was the last gift he'd ever given her, and she liked to leave it where she could always see it.

As she went through the material evidence of her life on this Earth she stumbled across something that reminded her of House. She dropped onto the sofa and flipped through the pages of a dusty Sherlock Holmes anthology. He had given it to her for her birthday almost twenty years ago.

When he gave it to her, he explained why it was so meaningful, how Sherlock Holmes was his idol, and he liked to think that diseases were his Moriarty, and he would spend the rest of his life triumphing over them. He had been a lot more romantic then, not in the hearts and flowers sense, but in the poetic, old soul sense that made her want to spend every moment of every day listening to him talk about everything or nothing at all.

Flipping through the pages she found an old, flattened, now colorless iris. It was part of a corsage he had given her when they attended the formal dance at the University. She had forced him to go, threatening to stop sleeping with him. They both knew she wouldn't follow through on the threat, but he took her anyway, content with the ability to blame her the whole night if he didn't have fun.

She smiled as a tear rolled down her cheek. He was a hard ass, even then, but he had still been able to open up. They shared their hopes and dreams, or at least he sat attentively and listened to her hopes and dreams and successfully evaded most of her questions about his future.

She remembered being sad that he had nothing to hope for. He laughed and said he hoped to see her naked again, but she knew he was hiding some deep feeling of hopelessness. She would have done anything to change that, but it was who he was, and it was who she fell in love with.

She put the book away with a sniffle, in its special spot behind a statue of Nefertiti she'd bought on her first trip to Egypt. Her finger slid down the spine one last time as she locked the nostalgia away where it belonged. Then she set out to find the man who had given her that thoughtful gift. She knew he was there somewhere.

The first place she looked was his office. It seemed the logical choice, but it was empty. It seemed emptier now than it had before she'd moved in. It felt wrong not seeing her things pressed up against his, invading his space. She had enjoyed invading his space, making what was his now hers. She liked that she could, that it was her right as head of the hospital to take over his office. She could have thrown him out if she'd wanted to, but that wouldn't have been as fun.

When she couldn't find him there, or in the adjoining meeting room, she checked in with Wilson. He hadn't seen House in a couple hours. He wanted to talk, she could see it in his body language, but she didn't, so she left.

She then headed down to Carly Peterson's room. It was a crazy thought, but maybe House was actually with his patient.

Carly was sitting up, trying valiantly to gulp down some vanilla pudding. "Hi." She looked up to greet the raven haired woman.

"Hi, Carly, I'm Dr. Cuddy. I run the hospital. I just wanted to see how you were doing?" Cuddy had no idea that Carly would know who she was.

"You're Dr. House's Dr. Cuddy." Carly grinned from ear to ear. It was an odd sight on a face so thin and pale. Cuddy feared for a moment that the girl might break in two and the top of her head would roll back onto the floor.

"I am?" Cuddy wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Oh My God!" Carly exclaimed in her best Valley Girl impersonation, which wasn't really an impersonation so much as just the way that she spoke when she said those words. "He won't shut up about you. Dr. Cuddy is sooooo smart, Dr. Cuddy is soooo beautiful…."

"Now I know you're lying," Cuddy said with a warm smile.

"Am not. That man adores you." Carly knew she was speaking out of turn, but she didn't care. Life in a hospital, tied to a stiff, uncomfortable Craftmatic bed was tedious and boring for a usually vibrant, energetic teenage girl. She needed some diversion from the feeling that death was breathing down her neck and getting closer every night when she wasn't looking. House and Cuddy had become that diversion.

From the first day House came to see her she knew he was haunted by something. It drew her romantic teenage heart into his world. He was like Heathcliff or Mr. Darcy or any of the brooding heroes of the historic romance novels she devoured. She decided to make it her goal to unite him with his heroin, and now, here she was, standing at the foot of Carly's bed, looking like a vision from Carly's dreams.

Though Cuddy was not the way Carly had envisioned her. She pictured a younger, blonder woman, perhaps a bit more like herself. When she'd ask House to describe Cuddy, he usually just used words like hot or a cold, heartless bitch. Carly could tell when House was having a bad day based on Cuddy's description.

"He told me about your date," Carly said, wading deeper into a pool she had no business in.

"Did he?" The arched eyebrow made Carly slightly nervous. Perhaps she shouldn't have told her that.

"He's afraid you hate him now." Carly was very frank. She had been given a lot of leeway as a child, and it didn't occur to her to keep things private.

"He is?" Cuddy was intrigued. This girl was telling her more about House than House had told her in the entire time they'd known each other. This was an opportunity too good to pass up.

"Dr. Cuddy, I know I'm butting into things that aren't my business, but I like Dr. House and you seem pretty nice too, and I think it's silly for two people who clearly like each other to keep making up reasons not to tell each other. Don't you?" She was innocently challenging.

Cuddy looked down at her hands. Yes, it was silly, but it was just the way it was. "I suppose."

"You do like him don't you?" Carly looked pleadingly at the hospital administrator, hoping the woman would not shatter all her romantic dreams.

Cuddy narrowed her eyes as she began to see what was going on here. "Did he ask you to ask me that?"

Carly dropped her head into her pillow as she rolled her eyes. For a moment Cuddy thought she had passed out she was so still, but then Carly spoke. "I thought when people got older they grew up." She stared accusingly at Cuddy.

Cuddy smiled with humor. "You thought wrong. People don't grow up, their problems just get bigger."

"Oh please! This is the same problem my best friend had when we were fourteen. She liked this guy Sam, but she didn't think he liked her so she wouldn't tell him she liked him. Turns out Sam liked her back, but was afraid she didn't like him so he asked Sarah to the Freshman Ball. Well, Sarah, once he got her hooks into Sam, wasn't about to let go and just added fuel to the insecurities until Molly, my friend, went out with Toby, the asshole." She shook her head and sat quiet for a moment. "I don't want to talk about that."

Cuddy understood and nodded.

"The point is, if one of you doesn't step up, someone is going to come along and split you for good. Both of you are too hot to stay available forever. And, yeah, no offense, but if you don't get married soon, it's probably never going to happen." Carly saw Cuddy look down. "Sorry."

"No, you're right. I do want to get married, and have a child." Cuddy didn't know why she was opening up to this girl, but something about Carly Peterson was so inviting. Carly reminded her of a young House, before the bitterness and pain sent him down the road of misery and self destruction. For a moment she imagined Carly going down that road, if whatever was killing her was irreversible, she could see Carly becoming bitter and angry at the world. She decided she would do whatever she could to prevent that. "But, those aren't the things House wants, so…" Cuddy shrugged. She thought she didn't have to go any further.

"So what?" Carly shrugged back. "You want some man and kid you've never met over the man you know and love?" It was so simple. Why couldn't these two grown people see what was right in front of them?

"I…" Cuddy had to think about that.

"Look, my father says I'm a bit of a dreamer but even I know you can't have everything. You have to make a choice. What do you want more? House, or the hope that you will meet someone else who wants to get married and have a baby? House is a sure thing…"

"House is most certainly not a sure thing." This girl didn't know him the way Cuddy did. There was nothing certain about House other than he was determined to remain miserable and he was addicted to his Vicodin. He was also brilliant and driven with a devilish sense of humor and a boyish charm hiding beneath the surface but… she had to stop thinking about him.

"Ugh! You two are driving me crazy." Carly pounded the bed in frustration. "Look, Dr. House is a wimp. He's not going to make the first move, but he does want you. He told me, and he has no reason to lie to me." Carly was a very trusting girl. She had led a nice, comfortable life up till. "Go talk to him, and be honest. Tell him what you want. He might surprise you."

"He often does," Cuddy mused, though she rarely found those surprises to be particularly good ones.

"Then go. What are you waiting for." Carly shooed her away with dreams of romance in her head. She hoped they would invite her to the wedding, if she was still alive by then.


	13. Chapter 13

FYI: I am going on a much needed vacation starting tomorrow, so this story will be on hiatus until I return. I had hoped to finish it before I left, but as usual, House and Cuddy are being difficult and weren't ready to stop their little dance of denial.

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Cuddy didn't have to go. House had just walked through the door. "What are you doing here?" He shot an accusatory glance at Cuddy. Then he remembered what a talker his patient was and glared at her.

"I was having a very enlightening chat with your patient." Cuddy smiled at the young girl and gave her hand a small, conspiratorial squeeze.

Carly felt the woman was about to leave, and realized she didn't have much time to act. "She likes you," Carly blurted before releasing Cuddy's hand. "She likes you and she wants to have your babies." Carly grinned. She was cute and dying, there was no way they'd get mad at her.

"I don't want to have your baby," Cuddy said instinctually.

"But you do like me?" House looked at her curiously.

"No." That wasn't right. "Well not like…I…" This was a losing battle. "Yes, I like you House. What are you going to do about it?" She got in his face, challenging him, ready for a fight.

House's team had ambled in behind him and remained lingering in the doorway. Each of them had a different look on their faces. Kutner was confused. He hadn't spent much time reading into the strange push and pull relationship of his boss and his bosses boss. When they started at it, he zoned out. Taub was riveted. It was nice to see a couple other than him and his wife with problems and he kept hoping for something he could use against House at some point. Hadley just looked annoyed.

House didn't like being challenged. Not in this way, not in front of an audience. "I'll come back when I can get some work done."

"Don't you dare!" Both Cuddy and Carly spoke at once and the effect sent a chill down his spine. This is what life would be like if he married this woman and had a child with her. It would always be them against him. He would not be free to make a move without one or both of them on his back.

House paused in the doorway. For only a moment he thought of turning and confronting Cuddy once and for all. He remained still as the moment passed. Then he pushed past Taub and Hadley and stormed to his office.

He did not storm alone. Cuddy was close on his heels after commanding that the others stay and tend to the patient. The trio of young doctors remained where they were for a moment, speculating incorrectly about what was going on then wend and did as they were told, still speculating.

House could hear her shoes clicking against the hard linoleum floor behind him but he did not look back, or quicken his pace. He simply tried to pretend she wasn't there. He hesitated at Wilson's door. She wouldn't follow him into Wilson's office surely, but the room was empty and she would, so he kept going to his office. There wasn't anywhere in the hospital for him to hide. The walls were closing in on him.

He walked into his office and started to shut the blinds. He heard her enter but didn't look to see what she was doing. When he finally turned to face her, she was sitting at his desk, in his chair. She was touching his ball, tossing it in one hand.

He reached over and grabbed the ball.

Cuddy stared at him for a moment, trying to decide on the best approach. "You like me House." She teased.

"You're going to take the word of some teenager on drugs." House was strategizing about how to get her out of his chair.

"She's not on drugs, and that wasn't a denial." She was looking up at him, a pleased smile on her face. She knew he was trying to get her out of the chair and refusing to budge.

House walked half way around her, looking for a weak spot in which to infiltrate. He thought about lifting one side of the chair and dropping her off but to do that he would have to put down his cane and she would probably suspect something and prepare a counter attack. "She's on morphine and I didn't think I had to deny it."

"The morphine wouldn't have delusional effects in the amount you prescribed. And you do have to deny it." She inched her feet across the rug, turning the chair so that he couldn't get behind her.

"How do you know how much morphine I prescribed? You wouldn't believe me anyway." He was eying her carefully. From his towering position he could see right down her blouse.

"I know everything you do in my hospital House. And I wouldn't believe you because you'd be lying." She felt quite confident at the moment. She'd caught him.

House jumped at the chance to divert her. "If you knew everything that went on here you wouldn't..." He made a face, pretending she'd tricked him.

"I'm not falling for it." She smiled sweetly. "You're just trying to avoid talking about your feelings for me."

House leaned against the chair, putting his hands on the arms so she couldn't turn away. "Why don't we talk about your feelings for me instead?"

Cuddy's eyes grew large as she stared at him.

"That's what I thought." House pulled himself to his full height. He grabbed the ball off his desk and began bouncing it off the edge of the desk.

There was a long silence between them, marred only by the thud, thud, thud of the ball hitting the top of the desk.

"Stop that!" Cuddy grabbed the ball with more force than she meant to. The impact made her hand sting. She shook it quickly to try and ward off the throbbing.

"That hurt, didn't it?" House chuckled.

Cuddy wanted to smack him, but that playful twinkle in his eye disarmed her. "Why do you like to see me in pain House?"

House was startled by the question. "I don't."

"Don't you?" She was fishing for anything she could get out of him.

"If you expect some sort of 'you hurt the ones you love' revelation, hold your breath. When you pass out I can finally make my escape."

"You're free to go at any time." She pointed to the door.

"This is my office." He was standing his ground.

"My hospital. My office," she declared in a sing songy voice, smiling sweetly and tilting her head. She tossed the ball into the air and watched House snatch it out of the air.

"My ball!" House pouted.

"Well at least you still have one." Cuddy smirked.

House scowled. "I have plenty of balls."

"You don't have the balls to tell me how you really feel." She practically dared him to say it.

"You want to know how I really feel?" He felt like throwing that ball at her head.

Did she? She gulped nervously. "I want you to tell me the truth House."

"What if I don't know what that is?" He leaned his bottom against the desk for support, his cane no longer sufficient for the job.

"We could figure it out together." Her hand went out to him but she quickly pulled it back, fearful of his ridicule. Her voice held a questionable tone of uncertainty. She had jumped off the cliff and there was no going back.

"What if we're wrong?" He knew she had to be thinking it as well. She was far more cautious than he was.

"You're right. Let's forget the whole thing because it might not work out and that could get messy."

"I love messy. You're the one who doesn't like messy. You're the one I'm…" he caught himself a moment too late.

"You're what?" She tried to read his face. "Are you worried about hurting me?"

He couldn't bring himself to answer her.

"Do you think I'll fire you if you break my heart?" She couldn't bring herself to think he was feeling anything deeper.

"Would you?" He was looking for anything, any excuse to run away.

"No."

"Things would change."

"Not all change is bad."

"Not all change is good."

"So you're argument is just contradicting what I say?" Cuddy was starting to get the feeling this was going nowhere.

"No," House contradicted.

Cuddy took a deep breath to build courage. "Look, I'm going to make this easy for you. I like you House, and I want to go out with you. Now the ball is in your court. If you ask me out, I will take that to mean you are interested in taking the next step. If you don't ask me out, I will take the hint and accept that you are not interested in a relationship with me." She got to her feet. She was going to leave but he stopped her.

"How do you feel about the Jets?"

"What?" She couldn't believe he was changing the subject now.

"I've got tickets, for Sunday. I was going to take Wilson, but, since you're giving me an ultimatum…" He lingered on the last word, giving her a chance to do the right thing and tell him to go with Wilson.

"I'd love to go to the game with you." She smiled brightly. He had made the right choice.


	14. Chapter 14

It feels like it's been ages since I last wrote. It feels good to be back, but it is always hard for me to get back into an already started story after being absent for a week (vacation. It was good, the cold I got not so much). Anyway, here is a little chapter as I get back into the swing of things.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

House shuffled anxiously from foot to foot, shifting his cane as he went. The line before them was agonizingly long.

"Relax," Cuddy said with a soft smile.

"I have to go to the bathroom," he whined.

"Then go," she replied with slight impatience. A minute ago he was thirsty, before that there was a pebble in his sneaker.

"Will you hold my place in line," he asked her sheepishly, already planning to sit on the nearest bench until she was at the head of the line.

"No," she snapped. If she felt he was in some kind of pain because of his leg she would have acquiesced but he just didn't like having to wait.

"Oh, God," House grabbed his leg theatrically, whacking the shin in front of him with his cane as he grabbed Cuddy's arm to stop from falling over. She glared at him until she realized everyone around them was falling for it. She didn't want to look heartless so she bent toward him and asked if he was alright.

"You know it hurts when I stand for this long." He was heaving breaths as he spoke.

"I'm sorry. I thought we had gotten here early enough to avoid the crowd."

"We would have, if we hadn't stopped to help that old lady…" she shot him a look that told him not to push it. "…with directions."

"I told you we didn't have time."

"You know me, always looking to help others the way you have helped me." He grinned at her so no one else could see. It was a bizarre mixture of pride and lust.

Cuddy turned toward the line monitor whose job it was to walk up and down the length of green and white clad people to make sure no one jumped ahead. "Do you think we could…I wouldn't ask, only…"

The line monitor looked at the line. They would have at least another five minutes to wait. "Come with me," the young, clean cut college football star said, pulling them out of line.

As they walked toward a VIP entrance, House looked back at the line and smiled. "Good job partner."

Cuddy groaned a bit, ashamed of their little trick while quite enjoying the fact that it had worked.

Their seats, given to him by a grateful patient or more accurately a bribe from a desperate patient, were so close to the field they could see the players breath in the cool winter air. "Nice seats."

"I knew you wouldn't give it up for cheap seats." House had a way of ruining any tender moment in a way only he could.

"I'm not 'giving it up' for any seats. IF you get lucky…"

"So there's a chance?" He looked hopeful, but he exaggerated it so she wouldn't know his hope was real.

"No. But if there were…"

"You keep saying if." House grinned.

"Forget it House. You're not getting anything from me."

"Who said I wanted it from you?" House was smiling now at the pretty blonde sitting where he was trying to pass. "Excuse me," he said to her with a flirtatious smile that Cuddy found odd on his otherwise gruff face.

"No worries," the young woman said, sporting a familiar accent that sent a chill up House's spine. "You're not related to Dr. Robert Chase are you?" There was some similarity in the silky blonde hair and young, fresh face.

"'Fraid not," she said, flirting back.

Cuddy rolled her eyes and went a few seats further before sitting. "We're over here House."

"I'm over there if you need anything." House pointed to his seat and the annoyed looking brunette sitting next to it, then went and joined her.

"This is supposed to be a date."

"It is."

"Then stop flirting with other women."

"One other woman," House corrected, "and are you jealous?" His heart hoped she'd say yes, and his mind kicked his hearts ass for hoping it.

"I'm not jealous." She lied.

"It's okay to admit it. I can't think any less of you," he hoped she caught his improper phrasing.

She grinned facetiously. She had caught it.

"Want a beer?" House had flagged down the vendor walking up and down the huge stone steps a few minutes later.

"Are you buying?" She looked suspiciously at her date.

"I'll buy you as much alcohol as it takes." He held up two fingers and started fishing for money as the vendor dug out too cold cans of Coors.

"You should have saved your money and hired a hooker." She took the cans as House and the vendor exchanged cash. She handed him one of the cans once he was finished with his transaction.

"I decided to spurge on quality." He popped the top of his can and took a long sip.

Cuddy thought about what he'd said for a moment. "That's oddly flattering."

"You remember the last time we went to a game together?" House was feeling nostalgic as the cold nipped at his nose and the beer nipped at his inhibitions.

"It would have been in college." She felt warm and fuzzy and wondered if it could be the beer or the memory of young House at her side, his arm around her to block out the cold.

"You know, if your hands get cold…" he was thinking of the same moment in time. Her hands had slipped between his thighs for warmth. She was still innocent then, and unscarred by his horrible behavior. She looked up to him back then. Thinking of it now made him feel empty.

He looked at her, rubbing her hands together for warmth, rather than finding it beside him. He knew he didn't deserve to have her back, but it was what he wanted more than anything he could think of at that moment.

"Are you okay?" She bent over to pick her can up off the ground where she'd placed it.

He let out a sad, sarcastic snort or a laugh. "Do you really want to know?"

She did. But not here, not now.

They fell silent, watching the game play out before them, cheering and jeering along with the crowd when appropriate.

Twenty years ago they had sat close together on the bleachers. She was practically in his lap, hands between his legs. His arm wrapped tightly around her, holding her close. He never wanted to let her go.

"Wanna come over after the game?" She was whispering in his ear, her hot breath tickling the small hairs that protected his ear drum. He shivered.

"Where's your roommate?" He'd never bothered to learn the girls name. It didn't matter to him.

"She went home for the weekend. Some family thing." It was a wedding, her sisters, but Cuddy hadn't paid that much attention. She had been in the middle of studying for her last exam when Amy mentioned it as she hurried out the door with her suitcase.

"Why wait till the game ends?" House wasn't invested in football. He was only here because his buddy Mark said that football games were a great place to go with a girl to get her to snuggle up to you. This wasn't the first time House had used the trick, and it wouldn't be his last.

She laughed. "You don't play the game do you?" She was moving around as though about to get up.

"The game where I pretend I'm a gentleman and you pretend you're a lady and that we'd rather be here watching our school lose a boring football game than back at your dorm room getting naked and sweaty together?" He was on his feet, holding out his hand to her.

She grinned and took his hand. "Yeah, that game."

"I can think of better games to play than that," he was leading her down the row. Her hand felt small in his.

"I'm sure you can."

Cuddy would follow him anywhere back then. She trusted him. She practically worshiped him. It annoyed him then. Now he missed it.

"Oh my God! Did you see that interception?" Cuddy had hit him in the arm, nearly spilling his beer.

"Watch it!" he said, holding the can out in front of him.

"Sorry." For a moment she looked like that young girl he had loved.

"No you're not." He was thinking of so much more than a nearly spilt beer.

"Maybe not completely sorry," she wasn't thinking of anything but that moment. It was how she coped with being around him. If she though back, if she remembered, she would hate him.

"I missed it. What happened?" He looked up at the score, which had jumped considerably since the last time he'd noticed.

Cuddy explained the past few minutes of play to him with infectious excitement. She loved sports. She loved competition. It brought out the childlike side of her that she tried so hard to hide at work. This was the Cuddy whose heart he had broken.

House leaned in. He didn't think about what he was doing. He felt the warmth of her lips on his as he pushed himself closer. He knew it would end in a fight, but in that instant, seeing the spark of who she once was, he had to kiss her.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Lisa Cuddy closed her eyes as a flood of feelings rushed over her. The last time they'd kissed she had been at an emotional low. She had just lost Joy, the baby she was going to adopt, and she felt like the world had come crashing down around her.

More than that, she had felt so desperately alone, unsure if she was even fit to be loved by anyone, and then House showed up. He said some things to her that she no longer remembered, and then he kissed her.

It was exactly what she needed, exactly when she needed it. House did that sometimes. It was part of the reason she couldn't just hate him. When she most needed support, when she thought she would finally break, he would show up and in his own cruel way, pull her back onto her feet and give her the strength to get through whatever it was she needed to get through. Sometimes House was exactly what she needed, other times he was a jack ass. That night he had been both.

Just as the kiss began to melt away the doubt in her mind, as it began to thaw her heart to the possibility that she could indeed be loved, he pulled away and left. No explanation, no apology, just a quiet "Goodnight" as he walked out on her just when she was ready to let him back in.

And now he was kissing her again. Only this time she wasn't distraught. This time he wasn't just trying to make her feel better. She wasn't sure what his motives were this time.

House finally pulled away. It wasn't easy. He had considered himself a good kisser before he'd met her, but Cuddy kissed with her whole being. There was something so complete in the way she kissed him that he left each kiss feeling contented and full of something unfamiliar, something warm and soft that might have been true happiness if he didn't extinguish it with self defeat just as it started to burn brightly.

He watched her for a moment that held an eternity of regret. He could have had a life with her. Though they had never really talked about it, each pulling back when they got to close to discussing forever, he knew that if he'd asked her to marry him, she would have said yes. They pretended now that they hadn't been that close, hadn't gotten that serious, but they had.

"Why did you kiss me?" She was challenging him to face the truth he had been running from.

"To shut you up." He was still running. The truth terrified him. The truth was he needed her. He needed her like he needed his Vicodin or his best friend Wilson. He wouldn't be able to function, wouldn't be the man he was without her.

He never thanked her for all that she had done for him, for pulling him out of a depth that, at the time, he didn't want to get out of. She had saved his life in more ways than he deserved. He would be forever indebted to her, and would never attempt to repay the debt. He couldn't.

"That's what I thought." She was disappointed. She expected some snarky avoidance, but it still managed to disappoint her when she got it. Each time she gave him a chance she hoped that this time it would be different, that this time he would show signs of growth and maturity, but he always disappointed her instead.

The first disappointment came before they'd even met. She had called him to set up a meeting. She wanted to interview him for a report she was doing on medical ethics. She had heard about his insensitive approach to patient care as well as his success rate with his patients. Even as an Intern he was proving to be a better doctor than most of the Attendings at University Medical Center and she wanted to know what his secret was. He stood her up.

She showed persistence by setting up another meeting to which he did not attend. Then she showed creativity in her approach by discovering his schedule and managing to hunt him down during one of his few breaks. He knew the winding hospital corridors better than she did and managed to loose her, eating his Snickers bar in the morgue before returning to rounds.

Then she began to stalk him, or so he thought. She began showing up everywhere he went. The hospital cafeteria, outside his apartment, even to this little jazz club he went to on Friday nights to jam. Eventually he wasn't sure if she was really there or if he was just imagining her everywhere. But why would he do that?

He answered his own question as quickly as he'd asked it. She was gorgeous. She was smart (as he'd discovered when he broke into the school records room and found her transcripts) she was witty (their brief phone conversations had been peppered with easy banter) and she was certainly driven. Most underclassmen where afraid of big bad Gregory House, but Lisa Cuddy had sought him out. She wanted to get to know him. The thought terrified him.

"You look beautiful," he blurted, desperate for something to say and finding himself once again that awkward college boy who couldn't talk to a beautiful girl.

"Thank you." She actually blushed, or it could have been the cool winter air brushing across her cheeks. He watched her hands slip past his and sink between his tightly pressed thighs. He slowly put his arm around her shoulder and felt her lean against him. He smiled to himself as her head fell gently onto his shoulder.

They watched the Jets take the lead, neither of them really caring. They were each lost in their own moment. House was thinking only of the present and how it would come to an end much too soon. Cuddy, however, was lost in the past.

Their first date had been quite different than this one. Young Dr. Greg House had brought her flowers; a beautiful bouquet that he'd taken from a dead patients room, though he hadn't told her where he got them.

He wore a suit, ill fitting and obviously not his, but she appreciated the effort. He was determined to impress her. They were going to a hospital fundraiser, which was a huge deal for an ambitious young undergrad. Only her and one other student where attending. The other student, Billy Blake, was the son of the dean of medicine who was hosting the event.

Cuddy fell in love with House that night. She had learned enough about him by that time to know he hated these kinds of events, that he would rather drive hot nails through his fingers than be here, but he had come because she had asked him to take her. In truth he had gone because he hoped she'd be grateful enough to sleep with him afterwards, which she did, but not out of gratitude.

"No!" House cried, disrupting her reverie just as it was getting to the good bit.

"What?" She looked at him, dazed for a moment as she tried to remember where they were and what they were doing.

"Ratliff just fumbled the damn ball. Game might as well end now. There's no way we're going to get over that mistake." He was pissed. He'd bet Wilson $20 on the game.

"We could leave then, beat the traffic." Truth was, she wanted to go somewhere a bit more intimate, without thousands of screaming strangers surrounding them and keeping them from discussing anything of importance.

"Really?" House perked up. The game was over, as far as he was concerned. Even if the Jets won, it wouldn't be by a wide enough point spread to win him his $20 back.

"Really." She took his hand and pulled him to his feet. He nearly toppled over and grabbed onto her for support. She didn't pull away, not at first. This gave him hope.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked once they were safe in his car.

"Take me home." She commanded. For a moment House wondered what he'd done wrong, but then he felt her hand rest on his knee, and out of the corner of his eye he saw that smile that lit up everything around it and he knew that any wrongdoing was going to come later, and hopefully would involve some level of nudity.

"Are you sure?" He didn't think he could handle her backing out at the last minute.

"Absolutely certain," she said, inching her hand up just a little. She didn't want to distract him while he was driving, but she certainly wanted him to understand what she meant.

House drove fast, violating several state laws. Surprisingly, Cuddy didn't chastise him for any of them. She seemed lost in some memory, or perhaps she was plotting their near future. He didn't know and he didn't care. He just wanted to get her home before she changed her mind.

House was chanting over and over in his head 'keep your mouth shut, keep your mouth shut' he didn't want to say anything that might ruin the moment. "Are you really so desperate that you're going to sleep with me because I said you were beautiful?" He should have known that old dogs can't learn new tricks overnight.

Her hand slid off his leg and she stared out the window, her back to him.

"Do you really believe that desperation is the only reason I would sleep with you?" She was still looking out the window and her voice was sad. He wondered if she was crying.

"Yes." He made it sound like a given.

"Oh House." She shook her head. How could he think so little of himself?

"I'm damaged goods. You wouldn't want me if you had a better option available to you."

"I've had better options House, but I'm in love with you." She turned to face him. This time he was looking away, concentrating on the street in front of him, trying to prevent her words from penetrating the thick stone wall he'd built around himself. "I don't know why most of the time, but I am, and there's nothing either one of us can do about it. Believe me, I've tried. So, like it or not, I'm in love with you."

I like it, he said, but only to himself.

"And what's more," she was on a roll now. If she stopped, she might never get out what she'd wanted to say to him all these years. "You deserve it House. I know that you don't think you deserve to be loved, and that's why you push everyone away from you, and I can't pretend to know where that came from, but it's not true House. You are not so horrible or so whatever you think you are, that you don't deserve to find happiness. Did you ever stop to think that maybe if you found happiness you wouldn't be such a bastard?"

"I'd still be a bastard," House mumbled.

"Maybe, but don't you owe it to yourself to try?"

"What's the point?" House flipped on his blinker as he was half way through the intersection. He thought he saw a cop behind him.

"The point is, you have a job that you love even if you bitch and moan about it constantly, you have people who care about you, and you have a woman who is willing to put up with your shit just to be near you. So why don't you pull your head out of your ass long enough to appreciate it."

"I've also got chronic pain and a drug addiction."

"I've got a mother I'm never good enough for, a nursery with no baby in it, and several employees who all want my job."

"My problems are way worse than yours," he said brattily.

"Right House, because the world revolves around you and no one else matters."

"Still want to sleep with me?" He knew she'd say no.

"You bastard!" She just realized what he'd done. "I am going to sleep with you tonight because it's what I want. And I don't care if you're not in the mood, or can't get it up. You are going to pleasure me whether you like it or not."

"Not if I can't get it up." He'd got her there.

"There are other ways House." She had finally figured him out. He was lashing out like a little child, and she just had to force him to accept the inevitable. "You're not going to manipulate your way out of this."

"Needy and desperate. This is going to be a fun night." House turned onto her street with a screech.


	16. Chapter 16

I just want to give a big thank you to all of you who have taken the time out of your lives to read my stories, and and extra big thank you to those who have taken the time and effort to give me feedback. I appreciate it more than you can know.

When i first started writing House ff, I thought no one would want to read my take on these characters, and I am pleased to know I was wrong. It also makes me very happy to hear that I am getting the characters right. That means a lot to me and is the thing I worry about most. So thank you for your encouragement and I wish you all a very happy and healthy new year. (I will hopefully have another chap or two posted by then, but thought I'd say it just in case. It is a busy time of year and I find it hard to write regularly through most of December.)

This was intended to be the final chapter, but I very much like the idea Cuddy proposes to House at the end of it, so I will prattle on as I always do, and just hope at least some of you will follow me down the winding path that is Huddy (in my eyes).

Cheers, and Happy New Year and now back to the story.

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

House stood in the doorway. He had walked her to her door, trying to find a way to avoid going inside. He wanted her. That wasn't the problem. That had never been the problem. The problem was, he cared about her. Sleeping with Cuddy wouldn't be just sex. It wasn't something he'd be able to pretend hadn't happened. They tried that once and it took years to get back to the way they were.

"Come in," she said, holding his hand and leading him over the threshold.

House stumbled into the house. It was warm and smelled of roses. A bouquet sat perfectly in the center of a side table. "Who got you those?" House snapped with jealousy.

"I did." She was casually tossing her keys into the small bowl beside the flowers.

"Why?" House wrinkled his nose at the idea.

"I like roses." She was aware of his jealousy, and felt pleased.

House walked over to the antique bar and searched the cabinet for something to drink. "Why are you doing this?"

"What am I doing?" Cuddy had turned on some soft music and fired up the gas fireplace.

"Trying to seduce me." He poured out two glasses.

Cuddy laughed. "I don't have to try House." She came over slowly and removed one glass from his hand, her fingers lingering over his until he pulled away.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked again. He took a long sip from his whiskey and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Because one of us has to, and you obviously won't." She took his cane gently out of his hand and leaning toward him, placed it against the table he'd made their drinks on. He could smell her hair; it smelled tropical, like an ocean breeze on a deserted island.

"I have self control," he boasted, realizing as her hand slid down his chest and over his butterfly infested stomach that she was about to discover that he did not have self control.

"Really?" She whispered into his ear as her hand discovered his secret.

House gulped nervously. He was out of control and a part of him liked it. He chugged the remaining liquid out of his glass and wished he could reach the bottle. She was testing his willpower.

Cuddy pressed her lips against his neck. The muscles there were tense as she massaged them with her mouth. She didn't want him to be tense, but she knew he would be. She knew he was scared. House had always been afraid to be happy. She didn't know why, but she had noticed that whenever happiness snuck around to surprise him he screamed and ran away.

"Just relax," she purred against his moist flesh. She felt him shiver against her involuntarily. She also felt his arm wrap slowly around her waist. For a moment she thought he might just be trying to hold himself up, but as his hand slid down the small of her back she realized he was standing on his own and had a very different agenda.

"I am relaxed," he protested just a bit too loudly to be believed.

"Good." She pulled away from him, her hand sliding down his arm until her fingers laced into his own long digits. "Then come with me." She led him down the hall. He knew where they were going. He knew her house well. He had even fantasized, more than once, about being led to her bedchamber in a very similar way to how he was being led now. Only in his fantasies she was usually wearing a French Maid's outfit and he was in a chauffer's uniform, but this was good too.

House followed silently. He was afraid to say a word. He was fighting the urge to say something mean, to ruin the moment and get her to push him away. He wasn't sure where these urges came from or why he couldn't control them. He had wanted this moment for years. He had imagined it in a hundred different ways. This could make him happy. She could make him happy. So why the hell was his mind working overtime to find a way to ruin it?

Cuddy stopped in front of the bed. She turned to him and began to slip off his tie. Then she smiled with a hint of the devil in her eye. House was so distracted by her eyes that he didn't notice her hands, slowly lifting the tie up to his mouth until she was pressing it firmly across his mouth. "That's to stop you from talking." She flashed an angelic little smiled as she slid her hands behind his head.

House mumbled something through his gag but she didn't understand him. He pushed himself against her and pressed his gagged mouth to hers. He could feel her hold on the tie loosening. He could feel her giving in to his kiss.

Her tongue slid past the silk barrier and into his mouth as her hands wrapped around his head, holding the tie firmly in place. His own tongue fought the binding fabric, pushing forcefully against it. She was teasing him with just a small taste of her. He wanted more.

He hadn't noticed her fingers nimbly twisting the tie into knots at the back of his head until she pulled away from him, her hands slipping down his arms, gently forbidding him from removing the gag.

She guided his hands up to the top of her zipper and waited for him to get with the program. When he did, she felt the zipper slip slowly down her back, the cool air rushing in to greet her bare skin. She pressed against him for warmth and he mumbled something else. She just laughed gently, playfully and getting up on her toes, kissed him gently on the cheek.

House guided the dress over her shoulders, his hands lingering against her soft skin. It fell to her hips easily, but he had to help the soft, gentle fabric as she shimmied out of it. He watched it fall to the floor then slowly, lingeringly lifted his eyes up the length of her body. She hadn't been wearing a bra, and her breasts stood out before him, nipples reacting to the sudden feeling of fresh air.

House grinned and felt the tie pulling against his fattened cheeks. He reached his hand back to free himself, wanting desperately to clamp his lips down on those erect nipples, but she slapped his hands and pulled them over her breasts.

House was going to protest, but she had managed to distract him expertly. Now he was more concerned with removing the clothing that kept him from feeling her flesh against his than worrying about the pesky tie that kept his mouth from exploring her round, plump breasts. There was time enough for that later. The urgency in his pants now took precedence.

Cuddy watched him claw at his clothing as if they were suffocating him. It was almost comical watching his lanky body fold in on itself as he pulled at the bottom of his pants. He nearly fell over as he hopped from leg to leg, removing the last of his garments.

Cuddy pulled herself into a more comfortable position as she watched him undress. She was ready and waiting as he stood before her, proudly thrusting his full staff into the air. He was just making his move on the tie when Cuddy got to her knees before him, and pulled his hands around her equally naked body. "Come," she demanded as she pulled him on top of her.

House obeyed, lowering himself carefully on top of her. He felt the need building with every second that ticked by. It had been a few months since he last paid for it, and a good two years since he got it for free. It had been nearly ten years since he'd gotten it from her.

House balanced himself on one arm, ready to pull the tie off quickly and ravage her with kisses before ravaging her with other things. His eyes searched hers. Did she know what he was about to do? Was she going to stop him again?

Without knowing the answers, House moved his arm up quickly and yanked the tie down around his neck. She didn't stop him. She didn't want to. She longed to feel his lips, unencumbered, pressing against her skin. She wanted to feel his hungry mouth sucking at her aching nipples. She wanted to feel his hands burn against her flesh and his manhood thrust deep inside her. She arched her back, inviting him in through her parted legs.

House's mind raced with the past and the present and his fears of the future, all pulling at him, all telling him to stop what he was doing and run home and drown himself in a bottle of booze and pills. The only thing prompting him on was the look of desire in her eyes, and it was the only thing he chose to listen to.

He pulled himself into her without much finesse or the requisite foreplay. He was afraid if he took too long he or she might change their mind. With his eyes closed, his torso resting heavy on his tired arms, he thrust again and again. He could hear her panting and moaning beneath him, feel her fingers tear at his back, her breath heating the sweat now trickling down his chest.

He hoped they would cuddle afterwards, laying in each other arms as their breath fell into a mutual rhythm. But for now, there was no cuddling, no lingering looks or romantic gestures. In this moment there was heat, and passion and a thundering beat in his ears that he tried to match with his hips, thrusting up and down like a dog in heat. It was greedy and visceral and they were both lost in the physical pleasure they shared.

When it was over House rolled onto his back. He was panting heavily, trying to catch his breath. He wasn't an unfit man, but years of booze and drugs kept him from being the vigorously active man he once was. Booze, drugs and the debilitating pain that radiated out from the missing chunk of his thigh. The chuck she had taken out of him.

She felt his eyes on her. It wasn't the way she'd wanted him to look at her. Not now. "Don't say a word," she warned.

House rolled onto his side, facing the wall. His mind was begging her to force him to face her, but he couldn't say it out loud. He didn't want her to know how vulnerable he was right now.

Cuddy lay on her back with her eyes closed. She had known this was going to go badly. Why had she pushed him into it? Maybe he was right. Maybe she was desperate.

House fumbled with the tie that was still knotted around his neck. He could hear his fathers voice in his head, not his real father, whom he didn't know, but the man who had raised him with self loathing and an unceasing sense of disappointment. 'You could never keep a woman like that' it didn't matter who the woman in question was, John House felt that all women were too good for his wife's bastard son. 'You should just resign yourself to solitude. Do the world a favor.' As a boy House had begged John to do the world a favor and get blown up by a land mine, but John clearly didn't like the world enough to do it that one small favor, and he definitely didn't like his son enough.

"Let me." Cuddy had turned to face him and slid her gentle fingers beneath his.

"I'm not good enough for you," House said in a shocking moment of honesty.

Cuddy stopped what she was doing and questioned him. She knew she'd heard correctly, but still needed his confirmation. If he pretended he'd said something else, she'd know he meant it, but didn't want to talk about it. If he admitted to saying it…perhaps there was still hope.

"I'll never be able to give you what you want." House was staring at her, almost through her. To stare at her might scare the words back into his mouth, but he couldn't look away, so he looked through her, into the deepest reaches he could get to.

"I don't expect you to." She was frowning with her eyes, her brow furrowed as she tried to understand his meaning.

"Then what do you want from me?" Was he just a sex toy to her? He used to think he could live with that. It used to be his dream come true, but something had changed. He had grown up and now he wanted more. He hated that he wanted more.

"What do I want from you?" The question puzzled her. What did she want from him? What she wanted, he couldn't give. She wanted a family, but that wasn't something she wanted from him specifically. It was just something she wanted. She would like him to be a part of it, but… "I don't really know."

It was House's turn to frown. That was not the answer he was expecting. He was expecting her to say something so that he could refute it, tell her it was never going to happen and get up and leave. Now he was trapped. She hadn't given him anything to argue against. It was his turn. "Are you disappointed?"

"In what? Tonight? The sex?" She had finally gotten the knot undone, and slid the tie off his neck. "Sex with you has never disappointed me." There was a sadness hidden in her voice.

"But I have." His sadness was on full display. He was open and showing her his wounds.

"Yes." She was speaking gently and methodically. This was a mine field they were now trodding through, and one wrong move could send them both to pieces.

"I'm sorry I disappoint you." He sounded like a wounded child. Her heart broke for him.

"I appreciate that House." She put her hand on his cheek. The stubble rubbed against the palm of her hand. Under other circumstances it would have tickled. "And I'm sorry for…"

He didn't want her to say it. He had to stop her. He kissed her. With all his heart and soul he kissed her. His eyes clamped shut, channeling all his emotion and senses into that kiss. He was telling her he loved her in that kiss, in a way that he couldn't do in words.

Cuddy felt lightheaded as his message came across loud and clear. It wasn't just that the kiss was so sudden that she hadn't had time to take in enough air. It was the power with which he was kissing her, the hunger and need, not sexual, not physical but emotional and spiritual. He was finally letting her in.

He finally pulled away, his hands still holding her face as his eyes drank her in. He was waiting for her reaction.

"What do you want, House?" It wasn't an antagonistic question as it had been many times before. It was true and honest. She wanted to know where they were headed. She wanted to know just how much of herself to give to him.

"I want to be able to give you what you want." His voice broke her heart.

"I want you. I want you to be you."

"You want me to be happy."

"Is that so wrong?"

"It's misguided."

"Misguided?"

"I'll never be happy."

"So you say. But I said I'd never sleep with you again and look how that turned out." She could still feel the memory of him between her legs in a satisfying afterglow.

"You're weak." There was a touch of teasing in his voice that relieved her slightly. Having a too serious conversation with House was like playing with fire. If you weren't careful, and didn't pull back in time, you'd get burned.

"And you're not?" She knew his every weakness, and there were many.

"You can't tempt me with sex then call me weak for accepting. That's not weakness, that's intelligence."

"Then I will appeal to your intelligence." Her mind was calculating her options and she thought she had one House might appreciate.

"I'm listening." She was always surprising him and he couldn't wait to see what was going on in that beautiful, maddening mind of hers.

"You like to test your theories, yes?"

"Yes," he said reluctantly, fearing that his words would backfire on him. It was really hard to think when her naked body was laying so close to his own.

"So, let's run a test." She was feeling more empowered as she spoke. There was no way this wouldn't work.

"On what?" His throat felt suddenly dry. He gulped loudly.

"We're going to be in a real, grown up relationship for one month. No pretending we don't like each other, no worrying that the other person isn't interested. We're going to be a couple. When the month is over, we're going to break up."

"That sounds like a crappy idea." House particularly disliked the break up part, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"It's a brilliant idea. We can see if we're capable of being in a relationship together without the stifling commitment."

"You think being committed to me would be stifling?"

"I think being committed to you would be like being committed to a mental institution, but I'm willing to do it anyway."

"You're crazy."

"And you're afraid." She was taunting him now, trying to push him into agreement.

"You're not going to trick me into agreeing to this little experiment of yours." He was determined to stand his ground.

"If you make it through the month, you get a month off clinic duty." She was not above using work to further her personal aspirations.

"Damn you!" It was his way of agreeing to her terms. He suddenly found himself in a relationship, and much to his surprise, he didn't feel trapped, he wasn't suffocating, and he felt a sort of warm peace growing in his heart. Maybe she was right about this after all.

He looked over at her smug smile and realized he could never tell her she was right. Instead he carefully slid the tie out of her hands and thought of the many ways he'd like to use it on his new girlfriend.

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

"You're what?" A light shower of coffee shot across the table.

"We're trial dating." House looked at his friend who was now wiping up the coffee spill and his embarrassment.

"What's that even mean?" Wilson knew House and Cuddy had gone on a date last night, but he was amazed at the speed in which they were now a serious couple.

"It means I get to dump her in a month and she can't bitch about it or make my life miserable. It's the perfect escape clause."

"And you think this is a good idea because…" Wilson left a blank for House to fill.

"Because it was her idea."

"Cuddy's?" Wilson didn't believe that for a second. "Lisa Cuddy? Our boss?"

"All of them."

Wilson thought about it for a moment. "She's a genius!"

"What?" It was House's turn to spit.

"Think about it House. She conned you into being her boyfriend. You're not going to be able to dump her in a month. This is Cuddy we're talking about. Cuddy who you've been fantasizing about and harassing like a school boy for ten years. Cuddy who is, let's face it, she's hot. And she's now your girlfriend. You'd have to be insane to throw that away, and she knows it." Wilson was on a roll now. "She's got you."

"No. I've got her. One month of free sex AND a month off clinic duty." House nodded proudly.

Wilson tried not to laugh. He'd already said too much. "Yeah, House, you got her alright."

House raised an eyebrow, but didn't think about it too hard. He was afraid if he did he'd realize Wilson was right, and then he'd go and do something to mess this all up. Let Wilson think House had been duped. Let Cuddy think she'd gotten the upper hand. House knew that it was he who was getting what he wanted from this arrangement. He was the clever one here, not them.

"Are there rules?" Wilson was finished with his muffin. He put what was left on House's dish.

"None that I'm going to obey." House wasn't a rules kind of guy. "You don't think she expects me to pay for all our dates do you?"

"Probably."

"She makes more money than I do. She should pay."

"That's not the way it works House. You want to get into her pants, you're paying for dinner." Wilson had been there and done that enough times to know how the game was played.

"Then how is dating different than prostitution?"

"You get a meal?" Wilson shrugged.

"It'd be cheaper to get a prostitute."

"Too late now." Wilson chuckled behind his napkin.

"I'm going to check on my patient." House tossed his napkin on his tray and got up leaving Wilson to clean their mess.

Carly was watching intently as Dr. Hadley prepared a needle. "Dr. House?" She brightened as he entered the room. "Do you have any news?" She glanced cautiously at Hadley. She wasn't sure how House felt about prying ears.

House shot Hadley a look that meant leave. She ignored it. "That look I just gave you, the one that made a path from you to the door, that look means leave."

Hadley glanced up at him. "This needle, the one I'm holding over the patient's arm, that means I'm busy."

House snatched the needle from her hand. "Now you're not. Now get out!"

Hadley left with a huff.

Carly giggled. "Are you always that mean to her?"

"Yes." House jabbed the needle into the girl's arm.

"OUCH!"

"Oops, did I forget the part where I say this is going to hurt?"

"I don't think you forgot." She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. She liked the fact that House was an ass, and that he didn't care who knew it. She wanted to be like that if she grew up. She had something she wanted to ask him but was trying to figure out how. "She's dying you know."

"I know." House pulled the needle out and put a small piece of cotton over the tiny hole. "Hold that."

"She thinks that means we have some kind of bond or something. She keeps trying to give me pep talks."

"Don't you want pep talks?"

"No." Carly made a face. "I want her to leave me alone, and I want Kutner and you to be my doctors. Can you make that happen?"

House saw the blush of a small crush, not on him but on young doctor Kutner. "I'll talk to their boss, see what I can do."

"Great. In the mean time, tell me everything!" She'd waited long enough.

"We had a nice date." House was evasive.

"No way. You don't get away with just saying you had a nice date. I want details!" House watched her as she pleaded. She looked healthy. Her color was back, and her voice was strong. A far cry from the pale mute who first entered the hospital a few days ago.

House pushed aside his doctorly thoughts, at least for the moment, and told her about the date, well, the parts suitable to tell a teenage girl, which meant he left out all the arguing and angst and kept in all the steamy stuff, but with innuendo and not too much detail. He even mentioned the agreement they'd come to.

"Oh!My!God! You're a couple! Awesome!" She was beside herself with excitement. "Oh!My!God! You need a name. One of those Brangalina type names. Oooh, what are your first names? Wait, how about Couse? Or Huddy? Or…what did you say your first names were?"

"I didn't."

"Then I think I'll go with Huddy. Couse sounds like couch which, no." She shook her head.

"Great," House said unenthusiastically.

"You don't sound like its great." She looked at him thoughtfully. "What happened?"

"I told you."

"You've got a hot girlfriend now, why are you so bummed?"

"I'm not…bummed." What a word.

"You are sooooooo bummed. Are you nervous?" He didn't reply. "Dr. House, she likes you. You don't have to be nervous about somebody who likes you. The hard part is over."

"The hard part has just begun," House countered.

"God, why do people make things so difficult? Look, you like her, she likes you, you did it...it was good, right? So what's the big problem?"

"Stamina. Teenagers don't know anything about stamina. You can prattle on all day about the most inconsequential things, like Gina's new hair style, or Tommy's jeans, all night long you can talk about nothing because at your age what you say doesn't matter. It's forgotten in a few days and…"

"You think what I say doesn't matter?" She looked deeply hurt by his words. "Then why did you listen to me when I said to ask her out? Huh?" Carly would be the first to admit she could be a bit of a flake, but the one thing she wasn't was a push over, and she wasn't going to let him just make general assumptions about her generation with questioning him about it.

House didn't answer. He regretted coming in and talking to her now. He was going to regret it more in a moment.

Carly pushed the attendant button and waited a moment for a nurse to rush in. "What's the emergency?" Nurse Linda looked at House and glowered. Was this one of his little tests?

"Get me Dr. Cuddy. I have a complaint to file." Carly grabbed House's cane before he could use it to get out of there. "You have to stay."

"I don't have to do anything." House sat down, realizing there were a lot of things in life he had to do.

Nurse Linda had left quickly, giddy at the thought of getting Dr. House in trouble.

"What are you going to say when she gets here?" Hostage House asked.

"Not sure yet." Carly tightened her grip, though she didn't have to. House wasn't putting up as much of a fight as she'd expected.

"What's the problem?" Cuddy burst into the room. She stopped cold when she saw the scene before her. "What have you done now?" she asked, turning to House.

House shrugged. "Don't look at me."

"Dr. Cuddy," Carly was at a loss for words now that the moment had arrived. "Um, Dr. House is being an idiot."

"What did he do?" Cuddy tried to remain professional, but she wanted to smirk badly.

Carly took a deep breath and carried on. "He's being an idiot." She realized this wasn't specific enough. "He only asked you out because I asked him to, but I only asked him to because it was clear he wanted to but he's too scared to just do it, so I had to push him into it."

Cuddy had too thoughts. One, House would not like being called scared, and two, no one can push House into doing anything. "Really?"

"Really. And I asked him how it went, and he told me it went good, whatever that's supposed to mean, but then he got all moody and idioty, which isn't really a word is it, but that's what he's being." She was talking a mile a minute.

Cuddy smiled. "You're clearly feeling better."

"I'd feel even better if I knew he wasn't such a hopeless case. So, I'm going to appeal to you now. Don't let him get away."

"What exactly did he tell you?" Cuddy was getting nervous now.

"Enough to know that he loves you, and he's a bonehead."

House kicked the hospital bed sharply enough for Carly to get the point. It didn't stop her.

"And what am I supposed to do about that?" Cuddy asked, intrigued.

"Don't let him out of this month thing."

"I'm not going to trap him." She was talking more to House than Carly. She didn't want him to feel a sudden need to run.

"You are for a month." House whined.

"If you feel trapped, House, you can end this now."

"What's the penalty?" He wasn't going to end it, but he was curious.

"The penalty is losing her you dumbass!" Carly couldn't take it anymore.

"And having to do double clinic duty for a month," Cuddy added triumphantly.

"Hmph!" House pouted. "Does this mean I'm supposed to take you to dinner tonight?"

"We can start with dinner. Now, if you're done, I've got work to go back to." Cuddy smiled politely at Carly, made a face at House and walked out.

"Remind me why I like her again?" House said, watching her bottom sashay away from him.

"Cause she's hot. And she likes you. I have a feeling not too many people do, so that's a plus."

"I'm going to have Kutner do a last check up then write up your release paperwork." House got up.

"Am I that annoying?" Carly giggled.

"Yeah." House left. If he hurried he could watch Cuddy walk down the hall until she vanished into the elevator.


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

Cuddy looked at herself in the mirror. She sighed loudly and blew a wisp of hair out of her face. The bangs just weren't working. She tried to smooth them aside with her hands, but to no avail. "Why didn't anybody talk me out of this?" she said, staring at herself and her poofy mom hair.

The reason no one had talked her out of her new hair cut was because she hadn't asked anyone's advice. As usual, she launched into this latest venture the way she did everything else in her life, alone.

The doorbell pulled her away from her image and toward the front door. "You're on time," she said, surprised.

House pushed his way across the threshold. "I knew you'd get into a snit if I didn't show up on time, so here I am." He shoved a bouquet of wild flowers at her.

"I don't get into snits." She sniffed the flowers nervously, half expecting water to shoot out of them like a clowns lapel. Nothing came out of the flowers except a beautiful fragrance of lilies and jasmine. "These are nice."

"Wilson's idea." House was looking around the foyer, avoiding her gaze.

"Of course it is." She sighed and carried her flowers into the kitchen. "I'll just put them in a vase and we can leave," she called over her shoulder.

"'Kay." House took the time to poke around. He was in luck. She'd left her purse on the small side table beneath the mirror. He dug his way through hair accessories and wondered why she thought she needed any of it.

"Are you looking for something?" She was standing behind him, arms crossed, toe tapping.

"Yeah, but they're not here." He reached in his pocket. "Luckily I come prepared." She smiled as the row of condoms unfurled in his hand.

"You won't be needing all of those." She took them from him and shoved them in her purse.

"Not all…but some." He sounded hopeful.

"Well, you did say you were lucky." She took his hand and led him out the door. House grabbed her condom filled purse on the way out.

"Don't forget this." He handed it to her as they walked to his car.

"Where are we going?" She lowered herself into the passenger seat as he swung the door shut and circled around.

Once he was in the drivers seat he answered. "Surprise."

"I don't like surprises." She quantified that statement with, "not when they're coming from you."

"Relax Cuddy. I'm your boyfriend now. I wouldn't do anything to embarrass you." He sped off down the street.

Cuddy hadn't thought about embarrassment. Now she was even more worried. "Where are we going House?" There was a hint of nervousness in her voice now.

"You'll see when we get there." He flipped on his blinker half way through the turn. He'd caught what looked like a cop car out of the corner of his eye.

"I want to know now."

"If I told you what I want now, you'd hit me." And she would, because what he wanted was illegal when one was driving a moving vehicle, and unless he was mistaken, was also illegal in ten states and Puerto Rico if he wasn't mistaken.

She moaned and leaned back in her seat. "I've got my cell phone, so don't think you can leave me by the side of some deserted road and get away with it."

"You shouldn't have told me that." House grinned and reached out for her purse.

"Give that back!" She protested, and started to pull it away from him, but realized he was still driving and gave up the fight in exchange for safety. "It's not even in my bag."

"You're lying." House used one hand to steer while the other went digging in her purse. It didn't take long as it wasn't a very big bag. There was no phone.

"People don't always lie." She smiled at him as she fondled the phone in her pocket.

"You told me you loved me once. Was that a lie?" He was trying to force a lie out of her, just to prove himself right.

"Yes, I did." She would play his game.

"But not anymore?"

"What makes you say that?" She could see he was getting frustrated.

"The fact that you're avoiding the question."

"I'm not avoiding the question. Why are you avoiding my questions?"

"What question?"

"Where are we going?"

He fumed. "If I tell you where we're going, you'll tell me if you're still in love with me?"

"I am still in love with you, you idiot." She sighed heavily. "But if you don't tell me where we're going I'm not going to MAKE love to you tonight."

"Oh really?" House crooked an eyebrow.

"Really." She seemed pretty sure.

"Wanna bet?" So did he.

"You don't have anything I want."

"Doesn't matter, because you're not going to win." He turned down another street.

"Are we going to the hospital?" Cuddy knew this route. She took it to work every day.

"Nope." House shook his head as he pulled onto the Princeton Campus.

"I'm not going to a frat party," Cuddy insisted. It had been years since she had been to one. She had always been quite popular at frat parties, now that she thought about it. Bet she still could be if she tried.

"Do you really think I'd take you to a frat party?"

"Yes."

"I'll keep that in mind." House pulled into a parking spot in front of McCosh Hall.

Cuddy was about to question him again but realized it was pointless and followed him out of the car. She noticed a few students lingering near the door. One pointed at them as they entered the historic building. Out of habit she looked at the announcement board as they walked passed. "Diagnostics Lecture with Guest Speaker Dr. Gregory House." She processed this information for a moment. "That's you."

"Yes it is." He smiled.

"You're giving a lecture?"

"Yes I am."

"Why?" She felt there had to be a catch.

"Because you're always telling me that part of my job is to mold and shape young minds."

"You never listen to me."

"I do listen to you. I just don't usually agree with what you have to say." He grinned and pushed his way into McCosh 50.

She hurried after him. "But you don't agree with me. You hate molding young minds. You say it's a waste of your time and talent."

"Maybe I've changed my mind." The hall was starting to fill up. Many young med students had heard of Dr. House, some had even met him, but they all knew that he never gave lectures, and he was the foremost authority on diagnostics. It was a rare treat that none of them could pass up. House found himself oddly pleased at the turnout.

"You don't change your mind House." Cuddy was impressed with the turnout as well, though she knew that putting House's name on a lecture would draw a crowd.

House stopped short. Cuddy nearly crashed into him as he turned to face her. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do?" He turned again and headed up on stage leaving her to find a seat in the audience of young, eager minds.

She noticed a few of her colleagues amongst the younger crowd. Wilson was sitting in the front row. He motioned to her to join him.

"He told me you were coming." Wilson moved his coat off the seat beside him. "Asked me to save you a seat."

"He didn't tell ME we were coming." She sat down and turned to look at her boyfriend, up on the stage. House really was a good speaker, when he put his mind to it. She only hoped he wasn't planning something she would have to chastise him for.

"hehe," Wilson chuckled. "All couples have their secrets." The idea of House and Cuddy as a couple tickled him. The idea that House was in a relationship when he was not tickled him. He couldn't wait to harass House the way he had been harassed by House for years.

"I am Dr. Gregory House." House's voice filled the room. "And this is Everybody Lies: The Dangers of Patient Input in Diagnostics. Today we will be discussing trust." He looked pointedly at his date.

"Oh God," Cuddy exclaimed under her breath.

"Relax. It's not as bad as it sounds. He showed me the speech this morning." Wilson put his hand on hers, a comforting gesture that was almost second nature to him. House's eyes shot down to them and the speech he had so carefully crafted fled from his mind. "First I need a volunteer from the audience. You sir!" He pointed at Wilson. "Come on up here and help me out."

"Me?" Wilson was terrified. He was pretty sure his heart had just stopped beating, at least for a moment. He removed his hand from Cuddy's unaware that he'd even put it there. It hadn't meant anything. It was just a friendly gesture. He now realized it had meant a lot more than that to his friend. "I…uh…"

"Come on; let's hear it for our volunteer." House riled up the crowd. "And what's your name young man?"

"James," Wilson grumbled.

"Sorry? What was that? We can't hear you." House shoved the microphone toward Wilson. It very nearly gave him a bloody nose.

"James," Wilson said into the mic, bringing up a sharp screech of feedback. "James Wilson."

"Ah, well, Jim. You don't mind if I call you Jim do you? Tell me, have we ever met before?" House communicated the answer to his friend with a very subtle head movement.

"No." Wilson felt Satan preparing his room in hell as he spoke.

"Great. Now, I am going to diagnose you." He looked at his eager audience. "Prepare to be amazed."

Cuddy sunk down in her seat, realizing quickly that something had gone wrong.

"You're a doctor, aren't you Jim?"

"I am." Wilson leaned awkwardly into the microphone every time he spoke. It made him adorably geeky and several young women were scribbling his name in their notebooks. One was drawing a rather impressive sketch of him, House's words glossing over her like background noise.

"Let me see…" House gave Wilson the once over, carefully studying the man. "I'm getting you as a cancer doctor."

Wilson pretended to be surprised. "Are you psychic?"

"No. I'm just highly observant." House's voice held an icy danger just beneath the surface.

Wilson smiled nervously. Cuddy squirmed in her seat, wondering if she should stop this now, before it was too late.

"You've been married a few times?"

"Three." Wilson was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Cheated on all of them." House held Wilson's hand, inspecting it as if he were diagnosing something.

"Not all of them," Wilson protested.

Cuddy stood up and spoke loudly. She couldn't let poor Wilson go through this. "What exactly are we supposed to be learning from this Dr. House?" She made sure he knew she was annoyed.

"You're supposed to learn not to hold hands with a womanizer while your boyfriend is giving a lecture."

The auditorium went silent. Sketch girl's pen froze in place. The clatter of keyboards stopped. The lecture had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

"I wasn't holding his hand." She had forgotten about the now silent audience.

House turned to the auditorium. "They both lied. I know for a fact that Wilson has cheated on all three of his wives, and not two minutes ago, they were holding hands." House shooed Wilson off the stage. "Everyone lies. If your patient tells you his name is Bob, don't take his word for it. Do the research."

"So he was lying when he said he didn't know you?" Some metal head from the audience shouted out.

"Well duh! Haven't you ever been to a magic show? Or seen one on TV? Or heard about one? There's always a plant. Some guy in the audience that the performer put in there to astound the audience with his psychic abilities, or to pretend to yank the fake chains before the performer gets dumped into the vat of water. Don't believe everything you see or hear."

"Then why should we believe you?" The female artist asked.

"You shouldn't. You should ask yourselves what reason I might have to lie to you. Wilson lied about cheating because he doesn't want to look like a cad. Cuddy lied about holding his hand because she's trying to be faithful."

"They're having an affair!" A pony-tailed sorority girl burst out with her diagnosis.

"Obviously," House said with a smirk. He wondered how far Cuddy and Wilson would let this go.

"We are not having an affair!" Wilson protested.

"Who believes him?" House looked out over the young, impressionable faces. No one's hand went up.

Cuddy simply watched, her wheels turning. She saw that spark in House's eye. When he was up to something, he got a little twinkle in the corner of his eye. He had it now. She wanted to trust that he wasn't going to screw things up too badly.

"Why not?" House asked.

Everyone sat and looked at each other. It was rocker boy who finally answered. "Cause you said it was obvious. Why else would they lie?"

"But I told you why they lied."

"They're not having an affair?" The blonde asked, her pony tail hanging to one side as she cocked her head in confusion.

The conversation went on this way for over half an hour. Every time one of the students made a suggestion, House challenged it, and questioned it until everyone was left in confusion. Wilson had shaken his head and given up following the proceedings. He pulled out his iPhone and watched UTube videos, hoping the lecture would end soon so he could go without hurting his friend's feelings.

Cuddy was fascinated. She always enjoyed watching House teach. Back in college he had been forced into teaching a special class on diagnostics to a select group of students. Cuddy had been amongst them. His lessons, if one was able to follow them, were far more meaningful than anything she learned in her regular classes.

"…so, that's why you should check your facts before making a diagnosis." House was finishing up his final thoughts when Cuddy returned to the present. She felt his eyes on her. What he was about to say was meant for her, and she knew exactly what it was. "Remember, everybody lies. Anyone who tells you they are not lying, is lying." House turned and walked off the stage.

"That was subtle," Cuddy said as she got up to greet him.

"Oh, damn, I was going for painfully obvious."

"That wasn't the speech you showed me this morning." Wilson too had gotten up and was talking to his friend as several impressed young students came up to thank the good doctor for his insightful lecture.

"The kids love me," House told his friends as he received yet another thank you.

"Are you even listening?" Wilson asked.

"Sure."

"You're lying."

"You're leaving." House pushed Wilson aside and put his arm around Cuddy's waist. It was an odd feeling, being so demonstrative of his feelings for her in public. It felt oddly nice.

"Great lecture House." Wilson got in one last lie before he left.

"I thought so." House was walking her down the hall with a proud strut he tried to hide. He liked walking with her on his arm. He noticed a few of the lingering young men looking on with envy.

"I can't wait to see what's next." She meant it, too. There was an excitement in the air when she was with House. There was always an element of surprise, always an exhilarating fear of the unknown. House excited her the way no other man had been able to. God knows she'd tried to find another man, a more stable man, who could make her feel the way she did around House, but she had failed miserably. There was no one quite like the man now walking her to his car, about to whisk her away on God knows what adventure, and she was willing to follow him anywhere.


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

House drove to a nearby diner. It was his favorite place to get breakfast at any time of the day. He was also testing her again. Now that they were 'dating', he had to figure out if she expected roses and fancy dinners at expensive restaurants. Those were the kind of dates she was used to with all the pretty boys that had paraded through her life. All the rich, successful businessmen that sniffed around looking for a trophy wife to take to their corporate Christmas party or to weekend business trips in the mountains. He couldn't imagine Cuddy being any man's trophy, yet these were the losers she kept going out with, and breaking up with.

"Interesting choice," she said as the waitress pointed to the empty dining room and told them to find their own seat.

"Is it a problem?" He wasn't sure what he wanted her answer to be until she said "no, this is fine." Then he realized how badly he had wanted her to pass the test.

They placed their orders and continued their discussion of his lecture.

"You could have told me about it." She was amused at his choice of first date.

"Then you would have insisted on tagging along."

Cuddy tried to decide if he was serious. "But you brought me to it."

"Yeah, but that's just because you're my girlfriend now. I would never have wanted you there as my boss."

"So, what else has changed with our new status? Are you suddenly going to start listening to me?"

House laughed. "No, but now I get to see you naked whenever I want."

It was Cuddy's turn to laugh. "Not quite."

"What do you mean, not quite? I don't get to see you naked?"

"You get to see me naked, when I decide you can. Not whenever you want."

House pouted. "I don't think I like dating you."

"You'll get used to it." She smiled and shoveled more hash browns into her mouth.

Cuddy felt House's foot touching hers under the table. She let it linger there, but then remembered their little bet. "Not tonight," she reminded him, pulling her foot away.

"Why the hell not?"

"Have you forgotten our little bet?" She teased.

"No. But I wish you would." The woman had a memory like a steal trap.

They ate in silence for a while, both unsure about what to say next. House wanted to call the bet off, to swallow his pride and just admit he wanted her more than she wanted him, but his uncontrollable compulsion to win at all costs prevented the words from coming out.

Still holding onto a small ray of hope, House eventually walked her to her door and invited himself in.

"I'm not sleeping with you tonight House," she promised. She was conducting her own little test. She had to know that he would still be interested in her even if she didn't sleep with him.

"So you've said…repeatedly." He's been trying every trick in his book to get her to cave but when the woman set her mind to something there was no changing it, apparently.

"It bears repeating."

"This ban of yours, does it include drinks?" He hadn't waited for an answer. He was already filling their glasses.

"Do you respect me House?" Her question came out of nowhere. They had been sitting on the couch discussing Vonnegut. House had noticed several of the author's books on her bookshelf.

"Why would you ask me that?" He did not want to answer the question.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm a joke to you." She was being honest. If they weren't going to be physically intimate, she thought they might be emotionally intimate. This time it wasn't a test. It was just something she felt she had to do.

"You're not a joke to me." He was staring down into his glass. He felt he needed to say more. "Your job is the joke. That's not what you wanted to do with your life. You could have been a great doctor, but you wanted to be successful. You wanted it so badly that you gave up everything else. And look at you now. You're at the top of your field, and you're miserable."

"I'm not miserable." Sure, she had her moments of sadness, but who didn't. Overall she thought she was pretty happy, or at least not miserable.

"You're lying to yourself. It's a defense mechanism, like my being a heartless bastard. It's how we manage to get through our days without climbing up the nearest clock tower and pumping our co-workers full of holes."

"Is that what you really think?" She wasn't upset with him for telling her the truth, but she was hurt. She didn't like that he thought of her as a miserable liar.

"I think you're unhappy. I think you are too hard on yourself and those around you. I think you're never going to be happy because nothing will ever live up to your impossibly high expectations. So, if you want to know if I respect you, then no, I can't say that I do, but I do care about you, and I like being around you, and I appreciate what you've done for me, even when I don't show it. If that's not enough for you…" he couldn't finish his thought. She had leaned across the couch and fell into a kiss.

"It's enough," she said, pulling her mouth away from his and nuzzling her head in his shoulder.

"Enough to get me laid?" House hated serious moments like this. He was afraid to look too closely at his soul for fear he might see something there that he didn't want to see.

"No!" She hit him with a pillow, but remained nestled in his arms. He was warm, and comfortable and felt like home.

They sat together on the couch, listening to the fire crackling across the room. She could feel his chest rising and falling beneath her hand, his heart beating rhythmically. It was a soothing sound that was lulling her to sleep.

"Why did you do it?" House finally asked. He'd been thinking about it ever since she asked him if he respected her.

"Why did I do what?" She half looked up at him. Her head stayed against him but her eyes moved upward. All she could see was the tip of his chin, but that was enough.

"Why did you take the job as administrator?" He was selfishly grateful she did because he probably wouldn't have a job otherwise, but he also wished she hadn't.

"They offered it to me." Cuddy had worked briefly in the endocrinology department at PPTH. She worked under an old, lecherous, drunken fool. As Cameron had often done for House, she filled in his charts and filed his paperwork and basically made sure the department stayed on budget and ran properly. Then she reported his drinking on the job to the then Dean, Dr. Thesealion. Her boss was fired and she was offered the job.

It wasn't until she'd headed the department for a while that she realized Dr. Thesealion was throwing her name around as his possible replacement. He respected her for working to keep the department running without looking for praise and he respected her more for coming clean about her boss and potentially saving lives. He also had a crush on her, but she didn't know about that.

"You could have said no." House liked the way she felt in his arms, her body curled up next to his. He stared into the fire, but that wasn't what was keeping him warm at the moment. It was her.

"I guess. But I was young, and ambitious, and I wanted to prove myself."

"You wanted to be a doctor." He remembered how young and ambitious she had been when they first met. She hounded him daily until he agreed to tutor her. She barraged him with questions until she learned as much as she could from him. She idolized him and wanted to be like him when she became a doctor. She told him that once. He had never felt prouder.

"I am a doctor." She thought that saying it might make her believe it was still true.

"You wanted to be a great doctor." He couldn't help adding, "you wanted to be me."

"Thank God that didn't happen." She joked. "You do realize I'm the only administrator who would hire you, right?" He said yes. "If I didn't have this job, you wouldn't have a job." She knew this was true. She'd asked around, when she found out he was on the market. No one else wanted Dr. Gregory House, no matter how good his success rate was, his legal fees were too great and his personality was not worth the lives he could save, at least not to any hospital heads she spoke with.

"True." He didn't bother denying it.

She was going to ask him something, but she wasn't sure what so she just let the conversation end.

A while later House spoke again. "This is nice."

"The fire?" She had been staring into it, and she agreed. It was a nice fire.

"No, this, us. Us is nice." It was bad grammar but she'd get the point.

"Us is very nice." She kissed his shirt gently. She was too comfortable to move to any exposed part of his body. Then she tightened the hold she had on him. Her arms wrapped around his waist snuggling her up against him. She sighed contentedly.

"Yeah," he said more to himself than anything. He couldn't recall how they'd gotten here, but he was glad they had. He reached over for the remote and flipped on the television. They were done talking. He could feel her weight slowly caving in on him. She was falling asleep. He was too awake to fall asleep. He hadn't felt this awake in years.

He leaned his head back and watched some infomercial about increasing your bust size with some sort of bicycle pump like device. It wasn't riveting television and after a few minutes of chanting "I must, I must, I must increase my bust" under his breath, the novelty wore off and he turned the television off.

He wondered how and when he would screw this up. He told himself not to. That he'd already screwed it up once, that she wouldn't give him another chance. Then he thought back to college. He was a stupid shit back then. He hadn't even been attracted to Sarah Roe. She wasn't horribly disfigured or anything, but her personality was nothing to write home about.

Sarah had done it because she was a weak, spiteful, desperate girl who was jealous of her beautiful, smart, popular roommate. So, what was his excuse?

House stared at the crackling, dying fire. He would like to put another log on it, keep it going longer, but Cuddy's head had slipped into his lap, and he didn't want to wake her. Instead he pulled the throw blanket off the back of the sofa and draped it over her sleeping form. He could make out her body, curled up underneath the soft fabric and he ran his hand slowly over her arm.

He wished he could say that Sarah seduced him; that she'd gotten him drunk and taken advantage of him, but that's not what happened.

He had gone to their room looking for Lisa. Sarah answered the door in her underwear and a tee shirt. She was expecting Todd. "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, it's me. Where's Lisa?" He pushed his way into the room. He had no respect for Sarah. She was just a nuisance to him.

"She went out." Sarah said snottily, swishing her ass as she walked away, determined to make him want her just to prove she was better than Lisa.

Looking back on it, House realized this was the moment he made the decision. It had nothing to do with Sarah sauntering about half dressed. He wasn't attracted to her in the least. So why had he said, in that seduction draped voice, "And she left you here all alone?"

Sarah knew what that tone of voice meant, and turned to him and smiled in what she thought was a sexy way. "That was pretty silly of her, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." House wasn't feeling it, but he let her rub up against him anyway. He closed his eyes and thought of Lisa and felt a little something stirring down below.

The decades older, and hopefully wiser House sitting on the couch with the woman he loved sleeping beside him tried to rationalize what he had done all those years ago. He had nothing. He couldn't think of any good reason why he slept with Sarah. He couldn't think of any good reason why he made sure Lisa would walk in and catch them.

His hand absentmindedly pushed the hair out of her sleeping face. She had aged well. She looked even more beautiful than she had when she was younger. But back then she had that cocky confidence of youth. She knew what she wanted and she wasn't going to let anything stop her.

She wanted him. It terrified him. He worried about how much he looked forward to seeing her. He didn't like how despondent he got when she wasn't around. He hated how dependant he was becoming on her. He was only twenty six years old, he was just starting his career, and he didn't want to settle down. He didn't want to be stuck with a girl who would probably grow sick of him and leave him for someone richer and more handsome; someone nicer to be around. So he had sex with her roommate and ended their relationship before it had really begun.

At first he celebrated his freedom. He tried to forget how hurt she had looked. He slept with anyone willing. He frequented bars and frat parties. Saw her at a few and avoided her seeing him. She didn't show up for their next tutoring session. He waited, but didn't expect her to be there. He had messed up. It took him twenty years to figure it out, but he had royally fucked up!

He felt her stirring. "What time is it?" She asked, groggily.

House looked over at the clock. "Almost two." He must have dozed off for a while sometime in the night because he didn't do enough to fill so many hours.

"Did you get any sleep?" She pulled herself back to a sitting position and checked her hair with her hand. She didn't have to. He thought she looked lovely.

"A little."

"Sorry I feel asleep on you." She pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. The fire had gone out.

"I'm not." He smiled.

"Well, I'm going to bed." She forced her body to get up. She didn't want to. She wanted to stay wrapped in his arms all night long. "You coming?" She held out a hand to help him up.

"I thought you didn't want to…"

"I'm offering you a bed to sleep in House. Nothing more. Is that enough for you?"

House looked at the clock again. "It will have to be, won't it?" He sounded dejected, but he got up and followed her into her bedroom.

"Yes it will." She kissed him on the cheek then pointed to his side of the bed. As a woman used to sleeping alone, she had become used to sleeping on her side of the bed. She hoped House was okay with the other side. He seemed to be, as he pulled down the covers and started to undress.

"I'll call off the bet." He said, pulling his tee shirt over his head.

"It's not about that," she replied, heading to the bathroom.

"What's it about then?" He tossed his shirt on the floor next to his shoes and began to work on his jeans.

"I'm just not in the mood," she called from the other room.

"Bull!" He knew her better than that. "Are you trying to figure out if I'm only interested in you for the sex?" He slid his pants down over his legs. He caught sight of his scar from the corner of his eye and was grateful she was in the other room. It still bothered him, having someone else see his wound. He hurried into bed and pulled the covers up over his nearly naked body.

"Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?" She came back out. She was dressed in a long, flowing night gown. She looked like an angel.

"I like the sound of your voice," he teased, watching her move.

"Then why don't you ever listen when I talk?" She slipped into the bed beside him.

"I just don't like the words that come out of your mouth."

She flipped off the light without a word.

"Was it something I said?" House asked, pulling her into his arms.

"Go to sleep House." Cuddy curled up against him and drifted into a dream.


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

House woke to the chirping of an alarm. His arm was tingling as it woke with him. It noticed that Cuddy was missing from its embrace and was not happy about it. Neither was House.

He pulled himself up and looked around. He was in her bed, in her house but she was no where to be found. He noticed the bathroom door was closed and there was a line of light coming out from under it and put the clues together.

He walked over and rattled the door knob.

"I'm in here,' she called out over the sound of the shower.

"I know. Why do you think I want to come in?" He smirked then shuffled back toward the bed and waited for her to emerge.

She emerged wrapped in a towel. House approved. He watched as she walked over to her him. Maybe she had finally dropped that ban on sex.

"Good morning," she said with a kiss.

"Good morning," he replied, pulling her down into his arms. The towel slipped off of her freshly cleaned skin. She smelled like papaya and felt like silk. It had a very pleasing affect on him.

"You can use the shower. I put some towels out for you. But you're going to have to use my girly body wash. I don't have bar soap." She grinned at the thought of House lathering up with her little soap scrunch. She secured the towel back around her chest, much to his disappointment.

"I've never used body wash before. You might have to come in and help me." He reached out for her but she slipped out of his reach.

"You'll manage. I'm going to make a quick breakfast, then we have to run or we'll be late for work."

"It's okay, I know the boss. She's a real pushover." He stood up and walked up to her, very close. She kept backing up, but for every step she took he took a counter step.

"I hear she's very strict. You'd better watch yourself."

"Rumor is, she's got the hots for me so she'll let me get away with anything." He wrapped his arms around her terrycloth covered waist.

"Don't believe everything you hear." She gave him a peck on the cheek that distracted him just enough to slip away, leaving him with nothing but her towel.

House looked at the towel. He looked around. He was alone. He held the towel up to his nose and breathed her in. If this was only a dream, he wanted to remember every detail.

Cuddy was singing along to the radio as she toasted a pair of bagels. House had no choice but to taunt her choice of music. "When exactly did you kiss this girl? And why wasn't I there to watch?"

Cuddy dropped the hot bagel she was removing from the toaster onto a plate. He had startled her. "Don't sneak up on me."

"I didn't sneak up on you." He reached around her body, sniffing her now dry hair as he did, and grabbed the plate with the buttered bagel on it. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She was pleasantly surprised to have gotten a thank you. She buttered her own bagel and joined him at the table.

"So, who was she?" House's mouth was full, but that didn't stop him from talking.

"Who was who?" Cuddy poured herself a refill of coffee.

"This girl you kissed." House pushed his cup toward her, his way of asking her to pour him some too.

"It's a song House."

"Yeah, a great song!" He had never heard it before, but any song that got Cuddy singing about making out with girls and liking it was a great song in his book.

"Do you even know it?"

"Do I have to?"

"I've never kissed a girl."

House's face fell. "Never?"

She shook her head.

"Not even in college? Come on! You were crazy in college. You must have…"

"Nope. Never. Not even in a drunken haze."

"How do you know? I mean, if you were in a drunken haze…"

"I know. Have you ever kissed a guy?" She turned the tables.

"EEEEW NO!" House had a strict rule of only kissing someone with graspable breasts.

Cuddy laughed. "Hurry up and finish. I'm leaving." She got up and put her dishes in the dishwasher then waited for House to gobble down his last few bites. Before he even finished chewing she grabbed his plate and put it away.

"Hey, I wasn't done." House spat crumbs as he spoke. He'd jammed too much bagel into his mouth at once.

"Yes, you were." She pulled him out of his seat and toward the hallway. "You're going to be on time to work for once in your career. Everyone will be shocked."

"Everyone will be suspicious." House held her coat for her as she turned into it.

"Let them. We've got nothing to hide." There was no hospital code against dating co-workers. Yes, it was probably unethical of her to be dating a subordinate, but hell, most of the hospital staff worshiped her and the other half were terrified of her, so she would be able to handle any complaints that arose.

"You just want to flaunt the fact that you caught the most eligible doctor in the joint."

"You're only eligible because no one wants you House." She pulled the door closed and double checked that it was locked then walked with him down the path to her car.

"Ouch!" He held her door.

"Truth hurts." She pecked him on the cheek again and got in. She liked being able to give him little kisses whenever she pleased. She liked not having to hide the furtive glances and longing looks that had been her secret for so long. She liked the sense of proprietorship she felt toward him now, however briefly it might last.

They walked into the hospital together, both awkward about such a public display of their new status. They seemed to mutually agree not to hold hands or show any sign of togetherness, but still, there was a secret freedom in walking side by side through the sliding doors and facing their co-workers as a couple.

Wilson had been lingering at the nurse's station. Cuddy wasn't sure if he was chatting up the nurses or waiting for a status report from House. Either way she thought it best to leave the boys to do what boys do. She excused herself politely and headed for her office.

"Well?" Wilson pleaded once she'd gone. "How'd the rest of the date go?"

"It was a date." House was trying to act cool. He brushed past Wilson and headed toward the Clinic.

"Where are you going?"

"Clinic duty." House realized that was a bad thing to say, even if it was the truth.

"So, you took Cuddy home last night, I called you several times and you never answered, so it sounds like you might have stayed at Cuddy's last night, and now you're voluntarily doing clinic duty?" Wilson wanted to say the words 'you're whipped' but he didn't have the guts.

"I'm not doing this voluntarily." House grabbed a clip board and called his first patient.

"So, you spent the night with Cuddy, didn't deny that part so it must be true, and now she is making you do clinic duty?" Wilson was trying to piece it all together. Still the only thing he could come up with was that House was whipped, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

A rotund, middle aged woman walked up to House tentatively.

"You Mrs. Miller?"

"Yes." Her face was pinched from wincing.

"You have kidney stones." House sighed and put the clip board back on the nurse's desk. "I'll give you a prescription for the pain."

"What about the stones?" Mrs. Miller asked reluctantly. She kept glancing at the dark haired man standing beside her doctor. He made her nervous. There was a weird sort of smile on his face.

"Drink lots of water. They'll pass." House turned and got another clip board. He was trying to distract himself from Cuddy, trying to avoid doing anything stupid that would ruin what they had going. He was doing that by burying himself in work. Sadly, the clinic was not filled with any interesting work and he had no case at the moment. "Steve…Workman." That sounded like a fake name.

A youngish man with bloodshot eyes and a particular slant to his walk approached.

"There's a drug clinic down the street." House put the clipboard back.

Steve Workman, who's real name was buried under a haze of cocaine stumbled back to his seat prepared to wait for another doctor.

"Henry Rose." House called his next patient.

An older man, about 67 or 68 walked forward with a strong, confident stride. "I feel fine," he pronounced as he reached House. They were eye to eye, the man being easily over six feet.

"Then why are you here?" House looked at his chart. The man seemed prone to accidents.

"Wife's worried about this lump I have, here in the side of my neck." Henry crooked his neck and put his hand over a hard bump just above his shoulder, not quite on his neck.

House searched the waiting room for the wife but didn't see anyone who might fit the bill. "Come on," he said, leading the patient into the first available exam room.

"Jannie, my wife, she's always on me about going to the doctor. I tell her, I feel fine. There's no need. But she worries. You married?" House shook his head. "Ah, well, you'll understand when you're married. You have to make compromises. I don't like doctors, no offense, but Jannie wants me to be strong and healthy and outlive her. Can't bear the thought of living without me." Henry smiled warmly.

"Well then, guess I'm gonna have to figure out what's wrong with you." House was starting to have an idea, but he wasn't ready to commit to it.

"She's a peach, my Jannie. Been together over fifty years. Got married before the war."

"Really?" House wasn't listening to the story Henry's mouth was telling. He was more interested in the story Henry's body had to tell.

"Yeah. We were friend's first, best friends in high school and all that. She never really was interested in me till I told her I was headed out. I asked her, more as a lark, if she would marry me. Didn't want to die over there a bachelor. She said yes. We've been together over fifty years."

"You mentioned that." House wasn't a fan of old war stories. He'd heard his share from his old war horse of a fake father. The only war story he wanted to hear was the one where John House steps on a land mine and gets blown to smithereens, and since that didn't happen in WWII or any other war, he wasn't expecting to hear the story any time soon.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to admit you."

Henry sighed heavily. "Jannie is going to be full of 'I told you so'." He looked at House and smiled. "She loves being right."


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE**

House worked silently at the white board, writing down a list of symptoms, each with a pair of initials beside it.

"What's with the letters?" Kutner asked innocently.

"Shhh." House spat.

It was Taub who leaned over and clued his colleague in. "RH, CT and LK. Those sound familiar to you?" He waited. "They're our initials. He's guessing which one of us is going to base our diagnosis on which symptom."

"OH!" Kutner got it. "Clever."

House grinned, his back still turned so none of them could see him.

"Or he's trying to force us to focus on what he wants us to focus on." Hadley snotted, not willing to play House's little game.

"Or I'm just trying to get your reactions to my writing your initials on the board." House put down his pen. "Kutner, focused on the illnesses didn't recognize the game. Taub, always looking for an angle put two and two together, but didn't quite understand what he was seeing. 13 thinks she cracked the code but, in her zeal to prove she's smarter than me, only proved what an idiot she is. So Taub, go talk to the patient; figure out what his angle is. Kutner, get blood and urine samples and run tests."

"Which tests?"

"Whatever you think would be fun and give me something new to write on my board."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Hadley dared him to come up with a challenge.

"For a start, you can make more coffee. Kutner sucks at it." House hobbled over to the sink and emptied his cup. "Then I've got some paperwork that needs sorting."

"I'm not…" Hadley stood up, prepared to follow House as he retreated into his office, but he didn't retreat. He waited, knowing she was going to protest.

"Going to do your job? That's your choice. You can either do what I tell you to do, or you can quit. Hint, if you quit, I am not giving you a recommendation." She stormed off. "Anyone else not like their assignment?"

Both men were already on their way out the door. Kutner had to stop and turn around to grab his pen, but then scurried off after Taub who didn't look back.

"Good." Now House turned and headed to his office.

Kutner quickly caught up with his colleague. "Where do you think 13 went?"

"I don't know." Taub walked a little faster.

"Do you think she went to talk to Cuddy?" Kutner said it with a certain sense of awe.

"I don't know." Taub walked a little faster still.

"What if she doesn't come back?" Kutner sped to keep up.

"I don't care." Taub turned to face the annoying young questioner. "Really, I don't care. She can come in with a sawed off shot gun and take pot shots at House for all I care. Our job is to talk to the patient and run tests." A thought occurred to him. "Wanna trade?"

"We can't."

"House doesn't have to know."

Kutner shook his head. "No. I'm fine running the tests."

Taub shrugged. "Suit yourself." He pushed his way into Henry Rose's room.

"You my doctors?" A grumpy old voice came from the bed.

"We're two of them," Taub confirmed, pulling a chair up to sit down beside the bed. "I'm going to talk to you while he sticks you with needles." Kutner looked away guiltily.

"What do I need all these doctors for? I don't even feel sick."

"You're a very special patient Mr. Rose." Kutner was trying to make up for having to jab the old man with a needle.

"Don't try to snow me kid. I'm not senile yet." Henry shooed him away.

"Yeah, well, you might wish you were when House gets through with you," Taub muttered so only Kutner could hear him.

Kutner held back a laugh as he placed the small plastic cup on the bed stand. "I need you to fill this Mr. Rose."

Henry picked up the cup and looked at it. "Fill it? Do I look like a piss fountain to you?"

"No sir," Kutner said with a chuckle.

Taub was fiddling with Henry's chart when Henry returned from making his deposit.

"And what are you up to over there young man?" Henry had one eye on each of them. He was sure they were trying to trick him; one getting his attention so the other could attack. Well, he was ready for them. He wouldn't go down without a fight.

Taub looked over his shoulder. "Who me?" He hadn't been called young man in a while. "I'm going over your chart."

"I'm going to need to take some blood Mr. Rose." Kutner had prepared the needle while Rose was filling his cup.

"Urine, blood, you'll probably be asking for my semen next. Well you're not getting it."

"um, the blood or the semen?" Kutner was confused.

"You can have the blood, but that's it." Henry held out his arm. "Then I want you gone."

"Deal." Kutner jabbed him a little too fast but Henry didn't flinch.

"I have to ask you some questions first," Taub said, not looking forward to it.

"All I had was a knot in my shoulder. Now I'm getting grilled by the Gestapo and having my blood sucked out by a medical vampire. When will it end?"

"When we figure out what that knot is and if it's killing you. Now, do you have a history of cancer in your family?"

Kutner left quickly after getting his sample. Questioning the crotchety old man was Taub's job, and he was more than welcome to it.

Meanwhile, Hadley had returned to the diagnostics department, sat down at the table and began sorting through House's paperwork. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of not doing the job.

She could hear House standing behind her, watching. "If you're trying to punish me for something, could you at least tell me what it is?"

"You mean you don't know?" House walked around to her side and leaned his bottom against the table.

"I assume it is some arbitrary infraction you made up on the spot just to screw with me."

"It's interesting that you think I would do that." House opened the top folder then closed it again. "Don't forget to check for signatures. I'm always forgetting to sign things." He would have kept going but he was distracted by the shapely figure in the doorway.

"She wants to file a complaint against you," Cuddy explained to him when he came out to meet her in the hallway.

"You talked her out of it right?" he replied leaning in for a kiss. He stopped when he realized she was leaning away. "Oh, so I'm good enough for you to screw behind closed doors but not good enough to kiss in public?"

"It's not like that." She led him into his office to talk more privately.

"What's it like then?" He helped her close all the blinds.

"I don't think it's appropriate for us to be making out in the hallways like a pair of horny teenagers."

Hadley looked up as House's smiling face vanished behind the vertical blinds.

"But we can still make out behind closed doors, right? In broom closets; our offices; the morgue." House walked over to Cuddy like a lion stalking his prey, only this prey wanted to be caught.

"HOUSE!" She was protesting his choice of location not his actions.

"I'm just trying to figure out the rules to this game." He put his arms around her.

"It's not a game." She leaned in and pressed her lips against his. The stubble on his chin rubbed against her smooth skin. It was a feeling she'd come to like.

"Good." He let the word slip out of his mouth as it explored the familiar depths of hers.

Hadley pressed her ear more tightly against the glass. She had expected to hear fighting. She was hoping Cuddy had taken her request seriously and was now reaming House out for his treatment of her. So far all she'd heard were muffled voices and long silences. It was like there chat kept getting interrupted by something.

She stumbled back as the door swung open. "Would you like a transcript?" House asked, shutting the door behind him.

"If you were talking about me, I have a right to know."

"No you don't."

"I know what you were talking about." She was cock sure of herself.

"I bet you don't." House was even surer.

"She told you I filed a complaint against you."

"Wrong. She told me all the places in the hospital I'm allowed to tap her ass." He was told that honesty was the best policy, so he tried it.

Hadley sighed impatiently. "I'm going to check on Mr. Rose." She headed toward the door. House stopped her with his cane.

"No, you're going to finish this paperwork as I instructed."

Hadley was fed up with his childish games. "I didn't take this job to be your secretary. I am a highly trained doctor and I should be working on this patient."

"I'm your highly trained boss, so you should be doing what I tell you to do."

"Why are you pushing this? To see how much I'll take? To see at what point I defy you?"

House frowned at her. "No. I just don't want to have to do all this paperwork myself."

"You didn't hire me to do your paperwork. You hired me to be a doctor. Let me work on this case."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Didn't we already do this part? If you don't want to do the work I assigned you then go home. I have no other use for you."

"Are you firing me?"

"Not yet."

Hadley stared him down, waiting for him to smirk and admit he was kidding. She was preparing herself for his next little test. House stared back at her, waiting for her to leave or get back to work. He really didn't care which she did. She hadn't worked for him long enough for him to grow too attached, and she was dying so it wasn't like she'd be around forever anyway.

"Then I quit." She had to. He had backed her into a corner.

House turned and went back to his office.

"That went well." Cuddy was sitting on the edge of his desk, waiting for him to return.

"I thought so." House heard the door in the other room open and close. She had left. "Looks like I'm going to have to hire another Fellow."

"You're really letting her go?" Cuddy was surprised. She should know better, but she didn't.

"Yep. Do I have to hire another girl?" He wondered what Big Love was up to these days.

"Yes House. Or you can go apologize to Dr. Hadley."

"I didn't do anything wrong." He refused to apologize, ever. "I could start another competition. Oh, I can have a swimsuit round and…"

"House, you have two weeks. If you don't hire someone by then you'll be spending every Friday afternoon working in the Clinic until you do."

"Are you threatening me Boss?"

"I am."

"Well fine, but don't blame me if I hire some incompetent babe just to meet your deadline."

"You wouldn't dare." She knew he wouldn't since he'd have to live with the bad decision more than she would.

"Watch me."

House didn't like being told what he would and would not do so he began phase one of Plan Hire a Hottie. That meant enlisting the help of his hormonally driven friend.

"I'll even let you interview all the girls." House hadn't told Wilson that he had to hire a girl to meet a quota so all the male interviews were just BS.

"I want the pretty ones." Wilson hadn't even realized he'd just agreed to do all House's work for him.

"You can have them. I don't need that kind of temptation." House rather liked thinking of himself as unavailable.

"Fine, I'll help, but the final decision has to be yours. I'm not going to be your excuse when it doesn't work out."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

They finished their lunch while discussing their ideal candidates like the dirty old men they are.


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO**

House and Cuddy met up that night at the Fairmont, an old movie palace built in 1922. It still ran old silent movies on Friday nights. It was one of House's favorite spots and he often came here after work to unwind and take his mind off whatever case was consuming him at the moment. Tonight was different, though. Tonight he was on a date that he hoped would take his mind off his current case.

He was waiting for her in the lobby with two sodas, a bucket of popcorn and two tickets for the double feature that started in two minutes. Hidden in his pocket was a bag of Raisinets. He was still unsure if he wanted to share them with her or not. He certainly wasn't going to share if she made him late for the vintage cartoons they ran before the movie.

"Sorry I'm late." Cuddy rushed over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, so public displays of affection are okay now?" He was mostly teasing her.

"They are always okay as long as we are not at the hospital or a work related function." She would probably live to regret those words but it was too late to take them back now.

"Well in that case." He put his snacks on the nearby table and swept her up into his arms and gave her a big, wet kiss.

When House finally let her go she was holding a small yellow bag. "What do we have here?" She asked playfully. "Ooh, I love Raisinets. Thanks." She smiled and dropped them into her pocket. "We'd better hurry or we'll miss the beginning of the movie." She grabbed the tray of snacks and headed for the theater. "Do you have the tickets?" She called back behind her.

House nodded. He felt defeated. He had decided not to share those with her and now he didn't have any to share. He tried slipping her hand

He led her to one of the private boxes that lined the sides of the theater.

"This place is beautiful." Cuddy was looking around, taking it all in. She didn't have much chance as the lights dimmed just as they were sitting down.

House pointed out where the pianist used to sit during the silent movie era. These days they played a soundtrack over the speakers.

"Awe, was that your job when they first opened the theater?" She teased, poking fun of his age.

"Don't make me take you over my knee little girl." House wiggled his eyebrows at her in the near dark.

"I'd like to see you try." She grinned.

House made a move toward her and she threw a hand full of popcorn in his face.

"You know the poor janitor is going to have to clean that up."

"Shhh. I'm watching the movie." Cuddy tried to ignore him.

They watched the old Gloria Swanson film in relative silence, only making random comments on the story playing out before them. House didn't turn to look when he felt her arm slip through his. Instead he simply enjoyed the feel of it.

House let his hand fall onto her knee. When she didn't signal a protest he let it slip up her thigh slowly, promising her something he had no intention of giving. His mind was on a far more nefarious goal. He slid is fingers carefully into her coat pocket and was just about to pull out his reward when he felt her hand come down hard against his.

"Don't try to steal my Raisinets." She pulled the bag out of his hand quickly.

"Your Raisinets?" He couldn't believe the nerve of her. "You stole them from me."

"I had to, or you never would have shared them with me."

"They're mine. I shouldn't have to share them."

"Well, they're mine now, so why should I share them with you?" She was trying to use his own logic against him.

"Because you love me." He outsmarted her. Or at least he distracted her long enough to grab that bag out of her hand.

The pout on her face was absolutely adorable. Damn!

He caved. "And that's why I'm going to share them with you."

It was the closest he had ever come to telling her he loved her and they were both fully aware of the meaning of his words. They also both opted to pretend they didn't.

House poured himself a handful of the candies and then handed the bag to his girlfriend. "See, I'm sharing."

"Thanks." She smiled at him. Inside she was jumping up and down and chanting 'he loves me, he loves me' like a teenager girl. Outside she was poised and calm.

By the end of the second movie the Raisinets were gone, along with the soda and popcorn, but Cuddy still clung to the empty bag. It was a strange little token of his love and she didn't have the heart to let go of it just yet.

"Wanna get something to eat?" He didn't want the night to end just yet and he wasn't sure if the sex embargo was still in effect.

"I could go for some Chinese." She was happy to keep the night going as well.

"You buying?"

She didn't feel that needed an answer.

They were just gathering their things when a bright light flashed in from behind them. "Oh, hey, doc." A handsome, clean cut young college student shined his flashlight into the balcony. He noticed the attractive brunette by his most frequent customer's side. He leaned toward House. "Is that her?" He winked.

"I don't know what you're talking about." House tried to avoid Cuddy's gaze.

"Party Pants? Is that her?" He was checking out Cuddy like the horny teenager he was.

A flash of embarrassment crossed Cuddy's face.

"We'd better be going." House hurried Cuddy away from the nosy boy.

"Party Pants?" She was not happy.

"I was telling him about this stripper I know. Really hot. Her stripper name is Party Pants." It was really Cuddy's nickname in college.

"Shut up and get in the car." She knew he'd been talking about her, but if it was bad, she didn't want to know, and if it was good, she knew he wouldn't tell her, so there was no point pushing the issue.

Wilson had dropped House off at the movie theater earlier that night. House fully intended to spend the night with Cuddy which would be much easier to arrange if they had to share a car. The only problem with his plan was that Cuddy insisted on driving.

The Panda House was crowded. It was a Friday night and the small restaurant served the best Chinese in town. It was also budget friendly which made it a hit with the college crowd. Looking at the crowd they quickly decided to get take out.

"You don't mind eating at my house do you?" House had weighed whether it would be easier for her to get him out of her house or escape his, but in the end he just wanted to sleep in his own bed. He also didn't want to have to worry about getting duck sauce on any of her fancy furniture.

"That's fine." She was more than happy to avoid having House eating all over her new couch. She happily drove to his place.

House led the way to his front door and unlocked it cautiously. He couldn't remember if this was one of Helga's cleaning days. He wasn't even sure if Helga was her real name. That's just what he called her because he thought it was a good name for a squat, hearty Eastern European cleaning lady.

He poked his head around the door. It had been Helga's day off. Crap. It was too late to turn back so he opened the door slowly and invited his date in. He thought he saw her hesitate before entering. "I don't have to invite you in do I?" He was thinking of that rule with vampires.

She looked at him curiously then shook her head in confusion and walked in. "Do you actually live like this?" She started tidying as soon as she took her coat off and placed it in the hall closet. She put his in beside it.

"Is that what that's for?" House asked mockingly as he laid out their dinner.

"Is it insane of me to ask for plates?" She wondered if he didn't just eat with his hands off the floor.

"Bottom shelf to the left of the sink," he directed her.

While House went to relieve himself, Cuddy set out two plates and silverware and napkins on the coffee table and opened the trio of food containers they had decided to split between them. By the time House returned, she had a lovely picnic style spread complete with candles and soft music playing from the surround sound speakers.

"This is nice." He lowered himself onto the couch, his leg propped up on the table she had so carefully arranged. He saw her look, but she didn't say anything.

"Dig in." She handed him a plate piled high with Kung Po Chicken, fried rice and egg rolls.

"How is Mr. Rose?" She had read his file earlier that day. She liked to keep an eye on House's cases.

"He's got a growth on his neck. Might be a cyst, but I want to have a better look at it."

"You don't think it's cancer do you?" Cuddy was using chop sticks quite adeptly.

"Not yet, but I get the feeling he's hiding something."

"Hiding something medical?" Cuddy wouldn't put it past House to admit someone just to figure out if he was having an affair just to satisfy his curiosity.

"Not sure yet." House gave her a smile. He knew she'd hate that answer.

"House!"

"No work talk." House shoved his egg roll into he mouth to shut her up.

She pulled it out and put it on her plate. "Fine."

He reached over and took his egg roll back. "Leggo my egg roll!" He thought he was so clever.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "You shoved it in my mouth."

"If you're lucky I'll be shoving some…fwing…" he couldn't finish talking until he removed the egg roll that had gotten shoved into his mouth.

"If YOU'RE lucky you mean." She smiled.

"So, this no sex thing…"

"Still applies."

"It's a stupid rule."

"Get over it."

"I'd rather get over you."

She groaned.

"I won't stop making sexual remarks until I get laid."

"Hire a hooker."

"Why would I buy a hooker when I can have you for free?"

"But you can't have me for free."

"The night is young." He stuffed his mouth full of rice and began chewing it awkwardly.

"Yes, but you're not." She ducked quickly.

"You know, one might think you don't want me."

"But you're the great Dr. House. Everybody wants you." She was teasing him now. It was light and easy and a vast departure from their past taunting.

"Really? Then why am I wasting my time on you?" He put his fork down, finally done eating.

"This is why." Cuddy pushed the food aside and propelled herself toward House, arms wide to pull him to her. House was a smart enough man to not put up a fight. Instead he let her weight press down on his full stomach, and let her mouth fall against his own. He was glad they'd eaten the same food or the taste of onion and garlic might have put her off.

House felt his body quiver as a ripple of pleasure passed through him. She was right; this was why he was wasting his time on her. The woman knew how to get to him, and she felt so good in his arms, and he couldn't think of a single woman real fictional or other that he'd rather be with at that moment.

"Does this mean the ban is off?" He asked hopefully.

"It means good night House." She gave him one last kiss before rising to her feet and clearing the table.

"Leave it." House put his hand on her arm to stop her from cleaning up his mess.

"I'm leaving." She didn't want him trying to manipulate her into staying so she made her intentions clear.

"Good night Cuddy." He walked her to the door, helped her with her coat, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. It was all very civilized and all very not what he'd had in mind. He should have suggested they go to her place.

When she left he looked around his messy living room. The left over Chinese blended in with the half read newspaper, the pile of unwatched DVD rentals and the empty pill bottles carelessly strewn about.

Now that he had a girlfriend he was going to have to have Helga come twice a week. If the place wasn't such a dump Cuddy might have actually been willing to stay the night. He shook his head sadly. She wouldn't have stayed. She was a control freak. She wasn't going to have sex with him again until it was on her terms, and most likely in her bed.

House was okay with that. He would wait. He would prove to her that this was about more than sex if that's what she wanted. For now he would have to satisfy himself with The Bush Doctrine which, he had been assured at the rental place, was NOT about politics.


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE**

House woke up with a massive cramp in his leg. He massaged the muscle a while before pulling himself off the couch. "Ahhh," he cried as the pain shot through his leg like lightning. He was getting too old to be falling asleep on the couch watching porn.

With a bit more force than was necessary he clicked off the staticy television and set off to make some coffee. He popped a few Vicodin before setting off on the long journey to the kitchen and rattled the few remaining pills around in the bottle making a mental note to refill his long standing prescription first thing.

An annoying hum filled the air again. It was the same sound that had woken him up and though he knew what was making it, he couldn't for the life of him remember where he'd put the damned thing.

He looked at the clock. It was almost eight. He wondered what she was doing. It was Saturday morning. It had been late when she left, well past midnight. Was she sleeping in perhaps? Dreaming about him? Or was she out taking a jog and trying to expend that sexual energy that must be pent up inside her. Sweat dripping down between her breasts, her heart pounding in her chest, her breath short and fast…he had to block the image and focus on the coffee before he had an accident.

He wanted to call her, invite her over for breakfast. That was lame. He wasn't the kind of guy who had a woman over for breakfast unless she'd spent the night and he was too cheap to tip.

The buzzing again. House banged his hand on the counter and cursed. Damn pager. Where the hell had he put it?

He wondered around the living room, searching for the sound. He finally found it, wedged between the sofa cushions he'd slept on. It died in his hand. "Damn." He tossed it back on the couch and returned to his coffee.

When the phone rang he spilled hot coffee on his shirt and swore loudly. "SHIT!"

"What?" he barked into the phone.

"I've been trying to reach you for an hour." Taub's voice rattled in his bosses head.

"This better be important." House wasn't in the mood for work. It was his day off.

"I…I don't know." Taub genuinely wasn't sure if what he had to say would be important, but it was interesting, and he knew House liked interesting.

"How can you not know?" House wanted to hang up but his curiosity prevented it. Sometimes he hated his curiosity.

"It's about Mr. Rose, your patient. Well, more accurately, about his wife."

"Does she have a growth too?" That would be interesting. It would mean whatever caused it was either environmental or was transmittable. It was more of a lead then they'd had so far.

"We'd need a court order to find out." Taub didn't wait for some berating comment from his boss. "She's been dead for twelve years."

House pondered that for a moment. "That is interesting." He hung up the phone and changed his clothes. In less than an hour he was at the hospital.

Henry Rose was lying in bed having a very animated conversation with his wife. There was no one else in the room. Taub and Kutner had been watching, waiting for their boss to come and advise them what to do. Now the three men were standing there watching.

"Poor man." Kutner's face showed a pain of understanding.

House turned and looked at him. "Do you ever talk to your dead parents?"

"House!" Taub was shocked.

"It's okay." Kutner appreciated Taub's defense, but he knew what he was getting into when he signed on to work for House and he was prepared to answer any of House's outlandish questions. "Yeah, I talk to them sometimes. Usually when I've had a bad day, or something really great happens and I want to share it with them." Kutner furrowed his brow. "But, I know they're not there." He looked through the glass at Henry Rose.

"Do you think it's a symptom?" Taub asked quickly, uncomfortable with the dead parents talk. His own parents were very much alive, and it made him feel like shit to think that he would trade places with Kutner in a heartbeat.

"It could be." House was unsure. It could be that old Henry Rose was just senile.

"Are you going to tell him she's not there?" Taub thought it would be cruel, but House was good at cruel.

"Not yet." House pushed his way into the room. He left Taub and Kutner to wonder what his plan was, their faces still reflected in the glass wall. "Hello Henry." House noticed that Henry had stopped talking to Jannie and wasn't showing any signs of her being in the room.

"Dr. House. Come to set me free?"

House watched his patient carefully, looking for signs of senility or anything else that might explain his talking to his dead wife. "Not yet."

"Look, tell me straight, am I dying or what?" He had leaned in, almost like he didn't want anyone to overhear them.

House leaned in too. "Too soon to tell."

"Then what are you doing here?" Henry was getting cranky.

"I wanted to talk to your wife. I was told she was here." House leaned in just a little, his eyes glued to his patient.

"I don't want you talking to her." Henry got defensive.

"Why not?" House's interest was rising.

"You'll fill her head with all this medical nonsense and she'll start worrying about me needlessly. I tell you doctor, I feel fine."

House braced himself for action. He waited. Usually as soon as a patient said they felt fine they went into cardio shock or some other such emergency. Nothing happened. "You might feel fine Mr. Rose, but you are most definitely not."

"Well, just stay away from her. That's all." He was every bit the grumpy old man his eighty plus years warranted.

"I don't think that will be a problem." House left his patient to his delusions.

Taub and Kutner were still waiting for him outside. "Well?" Taub needed answers.

"He thinks she's alive."

"And?" Kutner was getting antsy.

"And…we're not going to tell him otherwise." House cocked his head to the side. Unless he was mistaken, he knew the woman who had just darted around the corner. "Gotta go!" He took off after her, leaving his remaining Fellows stumped.

Cuddy could move quickly when she needed to. House just wasn't sure why she was avoiding him. It didn't matter. He knew she'd turn up in her office eventually so he headed directly there to wait for her.

Her office was empty when he arrived. Her coat was still there, so he knew she'd be coming back so he made himself at home. Her computer was still on and he sat at her desk and began to click around on her desktop, hoping to find something incriminating. He wasn't sure what he hoped to incriminate her about, but it was always good to have some blackmail info at an easy grasp.

A few legal documents were open. Those bored him so he ignored them. Her email was also open. Bingo! House began skimming through the folder titles, amazed at how anal her Outlook was. There was a folder for each department in the hospital. He found the one labeled DIAGNOSTICS and clicked it open.

He was now faced with a half dozen new files. One labeled PATIENTS, one for his team, one for the many complaints filed against him and, what was this one? He double clicked the one labeled PERSONAL.

A quick glance told him they were all emails from him. He clicked on one and started to read. It wasn't about anything in particular though at one point he had commented on her new hair cut. He shrugged and looked at the next one. In that one, which was a complaint he'd made about the cafeteria food selection, there was a reference to the dress she'd worn that day.

Looking through each of the emails in the folder he'd realized that the only common thread was that he'd complimented her in each one.

"What do you think you're doing?" Her voice ripped through him and he knew immediately that he was in big trouble.

"I was waiting for you." He quickly closed the email he was looking at and turned his attention to her.

"Why?" She didn't believe him and was walking around her desk to see what he'd been doing.

"I thought you'd want to know about a development in my case."

"How'd you even know I was here?" She leaned over him and activated the password on her computer.

"I saw you stalking me in the hallway." He let his hand slid along the length of her waist until it perfectly mapped the arc of her ass. She hadn't pushed him away, which was a good sign.

"I wasn't stalking you." She did finally right herself, and leaned against the desk for support. His touch had made her feel weak.

"Then what are you doing here? It's the weekend."

"I had to finish some paperwork. What are you doing here?" It was like her to come in on the weekend and do work, but it was not like House to do the same.

"I told you, there was a development with my patient." He was admiring her legs, long and lean and crossed at the ankle like a good little girl.

"Is everything alright?" She became worried. She didn't know much about Mr. Rose, only what she'd read in Dr. Taub's report, but she always felt for all the patients at her hospital and he was no exception.

"He sees dead people." House said ominously. "Well, only one dead person actually. His wife, but I think the dead part is more important than the number."

Cuddy shook her head, trying to make sense of this information. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about a lonely old man who can't deal with the fact that the woman he loved is gone." His words held a deeper meaning she was afraid to probe into.

"That's so sad." She gulped back a tear. "Are you sure it's not a symptom."

"I'm not even sure what he has yet. It could be. Does it matter?" He was searching her face for an answer. He found that the answers to these kinds of questions said more about the person answering than they did about the subject matter itself.

"If it helps diagnose him then yes, it does matter." That was Cuddy in a nut shell, always working.

House thought about the question he was about to ask for a moment. He wondered how to word it, how much weight to put into each word. Finally he spoke. "If it were you, would you want someone to tell you the truth?"

"He doesn't know she's dead?" It was starting to make more sense to her now.

House shook his head.

She thought, and she thought. She held her hand over her mouth as she thought. She looked out the window. She tried to understand the depth of the dilemma. Was it better to know the truth about your own delusions, or live contentedly in them? "I'd want to know." She wasn't looking at him. She was lying.

House nodded thoughtfully. "That's what I thought you'd say."

She didn't like his gaze. It was like he was looking through her. "What's that mean?"

"You wouldn't want to know, but you think I would, so you lied. You don't want me to see you as weak or sentimental so you gave the doctors answer. But I'm not asking you as a doctor. I'm asking you as a person. If something you believed in with all your heart was a lie, would you want to know?"

"No." She didn't have to think about it. "House, he's a dying old man. Let him have his fantasy if it gives him a few more hours of happiness, or days or however long he's got left."

House looked at her calves. She had perfectly shaped calves, smooth and curved like the gentle slope of a violin. "I can't." He sighed heavily. He too wanted to let Henry Rose live out his days in a fantasy world with his late wife but he needed answers. "I've got to go."


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR**

Henry was sleeping when House returned to his room. Taub was checking his IV. House walked in silently and dropped into a chair beside the bed.

"What are you doing here?" It wasn't like House to visit his patients. At least not as long as Taub had been working with him.

"Thinking," House replied, tapping the end of his cane gently on the nearest leg of the bed.

"It looks more like you're trying to wake the patient." Taub was done with his work and turned to face House, hands folded over his chest.

"That's my method." House was only half engaged in the conversation. His mind was on other things.

"Your method is to annoy people into doing what you want…oh, that does sound like you." Taub shrugged. "Kutner thinks he might have lymphoma."

"Kutner's an idiot."

"Yeah, but he still thinks it might be lymphoma." Taub looked at his boss. "You don't agree."

"You're not an idiot. Want a gold star?" House looked at Taub for a moment, then back at the sleeping old man he was trying to save.

Henry stirred as the cane continued to clank against his metal bed.

"Stop doing that," Taub ordered.

"No." House did it a little harder. "Are you done?"

Taub took the hint, turned and left. House looked at Henry. "Wakey, wakey."

Henry grunted in his sleep.

House sighed a whining sigh. "Come on old man. Wake up!" He nearly screamed the end hoping it would jolt the old man to consciousness. He also nudged him with his cane as an added incentive.

With whip fast reflexes Henry grabbed the cane and held it firm. House had to pull hard to release it from his grip.

"You've got my attention. Now what do you want?"

"I want to talk to your wife." House watched the old man's face, studying his eyes for any hint of anything.

Henry looked around, at first his face showed curiosity, then worry, then back to anger at having been disrupted from his dreams. "She's not here."

"I can see that. Where is she?" House was biding his time.

"How the hell should I know," Henry snapped.

"You're the only one who can see her." House said it bluntly, hoping the truth of it would sink in without further explanation necessary, though he knew better.

Henry stared at him blankly, the words passing through him like wind. "I was sleeping before you came in and disrupted me. Is this the way you treat all your patients? It's a wonder you still have a license."

"I still have a license because I save lives. Sorry if I'm not more polite when I do it," House said politely. "You're wife is dead, by the way." House had had it with trying to soften the blow.

He waited for a reaction, but none came. Henry just stared off toward a spot somewhere behind House's head. House turned to look instinctively. He didn't expect to see anything and he wasn't disappointed. "Did you hear me? I said Jan is dead."

Henry blinked a few times, an odd blank expression on his face.

House narrowed his own eyes, trying to get a better look at the old man's time worn face. Henry looked back, almost challenging the doctor to speak again, to spew more of that nonsense he was talking.

The two men looked at each other in a sort of ocular face off. House realized Henry wasn't blinking, and tried to stare him down. Neither of them looked when the door opened and Dr. Kutner walked in.

"Um…" Kutner looked from one to the other.

House finally broke the stare and got up. "Convince this idiot his wife is dead," he barked on his way out the door.

Kutner spoke hesitantly. "Your wife is dead. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," House snapped.

"Is, is he okay?" Kutner was looking more closely at the patient whose eyes had seemed unfocused. The young doctor took out his pocket light and shone it in each of the usually bright brown orbs. He got no response. "House, I think he's in a coma."

"Crap!" House turned his attention to the motionless Henry.

"What'd you do to him?" Kutner slowly laid the old man onto his back. His body had become ridged in its sitting position. "I've never seen anything like this."

House shook his head in disbelief. "I think he turned himself off."

"What?" Kutner thought he might have heard wrong amid the hum of nurses and emergency personnel reacting to the flatline of Henry's monitor. "He's crashing!" Kutner jumped into the middle of things, pulling the paddles off the crash cart and springing to action as House stood back and watched with curiosity.

House's mind was racing through his vast store of medical cases. It couldn't be coincidence that Henry slipped into a coma right after House told him the truth about his late wife. House didn't believe in coincidences.

Hours later, in the comfort of Wilson's office he was still thinking about it. Henry was still in a coma but the prognosis was good, considering. His vitals had stabilized and he was happily living his life in his own head with his beloved Jannie by his side. House scoffed at the thought.

"When I lost Amber…" Wilson was about to make some profound statement about the affects of lost love when House cut him off.

"You knew Amber for less than a year."

"That's my point. I was ready to change my entire life because of what happened. I can't imagine what I would have done if we'd been together over fifty years." The thought pained Wilson. Not just the reminder of his loss, but the more painful reminder that he wouldn't get fifty years to spend with Amber.

"Hmph." House wasn't buying it. People come and go, that's the nature of life.

"Are you telling me you weren't gutted when Stacy finally left you?"

"I expected it." House said, hiding any emotion the mention of his former girlfriend brought up.

"What if Cuddy died?" Wilson didn't like to think about it, she was his friend too, but he had to do something.

"Excuse me?" House refused to think about it.

"Or me? What if I died House? What if one day I just wasn't there anymore?"

Wilson was talking about himself, but House's mind raced to the aforementioned Cuddy. He had always assumed she'd be around. That he could string her along until he was ready to make his big gesture of commitment or whatever he chose. He took her for granted, and Wilson, but Wilson had not so long ago woke him up, after Amber died, when they stopped speaking.

"…and I know you wouldn't be able to find a replacement. Friendship doesn't work like that. You can't just hire a new friend…" Wilson was still talking. He was on a role.

House had tried to hire a friend to replace Wilson. It just wasn't the same. He'd also spent countless dollars per hour trying to replace Cuddy, at least physically. That hadn't worked either.

"Are you even listening to me?" Wilson had finally caught on.

House nodded his head. He was thinking of other things.

"Do you have an idea?" House had that far away look he got when one of his medical epiphanies came to him.

"I have to go." House got up and walked to the door.

"That's it? After everything I said you're just going to leave?" Wilson still didn't realize House hadn't heard half of what he'd said.

"I have something I have to do."

That something turned out to be going home and drinking half a bottle of bourbon. It was his coping mechanism. Henry had shaken him. The idea of loving someone so much that you couldn't let go to them even after death, it was something he didn't want to have to think about. It's the reason he had kept himself so detached for so long.

House didn't want to need someone. He didn't want to fall into a coma at the mention of someone else's death. He wanted his independence. He wanted to be free from the burden of love. He took another swig form the bottle, not bothering with a glass. He didn't want to need Cuddy as much as he did.

He wondered what she was doing right now. They were supposed to have dinner tonight, or more specifically, he was supposed to go over her house for dinner. She was cooking, which meant sex. There were still two hours left to the work day, then she'd have to go home and prepare the meal. He still had a good three or four hours before she'd realize he stood her up.

The empty bottle fell out of his hands and shattered across the floor. House opened his gummy eyes and tried to focus on the clock on the far wall. The black numbers wobbled as the hands shifted in and out of focus.

"FUCK!" House kicked the table violently. He was meant to be at Cuddy's at 7:30. It was now half past 8 and the phone was ringing. He shuffled over to it and picked up the receiver. The phone still rang. House looked at it, wobbling in place. He leaned against the wall and tried to think.

That wasn't the phone. It was the doorbell. "FUCK!" He tried to put the phone back on the hook but missed a few times before finally giving up.

He stubbed his toe on the coffee table as he stumbled toward the door. "FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

Cuddy heard him stumbling and swearing through the solid door. She could tell he was drunk. She put the bags she was carrying on the floor and began feeling over the door frame for a key.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He asked hazily.

"I tried to call."

"Phone's busted." He didn't realize she'd tried to call before he smashed the receiver into two pieces but he was passed out at the time, so it was an understandable mistake.

"What the hell happened to you?" She knew the answer was booze, a lot of it, but she hoped for some insight into why he'd ingested it. She picked up her bags and pushed her way in.

"Fell into a bottle of bourbon." There was no point in trying to cover it up. "But you didn' answer my question." His words were slurring just a little and his body wavered on his long, thin legs.

"I came to make you dinner." She put down her bags, feeling he needed her help more than they did at the moment. She guided him to the sofa and not so gently dropped him onto a cushion.

House's eyebrows came together in a perplexed V. "You're no mad?"

"I'm furious." She smiled a sharp, controlled smile then picked up her bags and headed for the kitchen. "But when you didn't answer the fifth time I called I realized something was wrong."

"You didn' think I was just standin' y'up?" He watched as she flitted around his kitchen as if she belonged there. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Though that might have been the amber colored glasses he was looking through at the moment.

"No." The thought had crossed her mind, but when Wilson told her about Henry and about House leaving early she realized this wasn't about her, or their date.

House had no reply for that answer. He wasn't expecting it. He wasn't expecting her to be so calm, or to come over in the first place. He wasn't sure what was going on, and he did not like it one bit.

The smell of onion and garlic and fresh tomato filled his nostrils. She was making pasta. He felt his stomach churn a little and realized he shouldn't have had quite so much to drink.

"Are you going to tell me why you didn't come over tonight, and why you're completely wasted?"

"Nope." House shook his head emphatically and it made him sick. Cuddy wasn't fast enough with the pot she was holding and stood over him staring at the pile of lunch he had expelled onto the carpet.

"Suppose I'll have to clean that up," she said only partly to him.

"Yep." House looked up at her and grinned. His eyes were glassed over and he burped loudly as he said the word, then laughed like an idiot.

Cuddy sighed and kneeled before him. She gently guided him onto his side, pushing a pillow under his head just before impact, then she carefully lifted his legs onto the other end of the sofa, curling them up so his full length would fit on the small piece of furniture. "We'll skip dinner. You should get some rest." She pulled a throw blanket over him and went to the kitchen for some rug cleaner and towels.

House drifted in and out of consciousness. He saw her bent before him, scrubbing the rug furiously, then she was curled up in a chair reading a book, then she was sipping some tea and watching him, then she was gone.

He had been content to watch her, knowing she was nearby, watching over him, until she wasn't. Then he let out a brief cry and heard her moving in from the other room.

"Is everything alright?" She looked down at him, fear in her eyes.

"I need water." House's words were soft and groggy. He wasn't even sure what he was saying.

Cuddy sighed heavily but when to get him a glass of water. He craned his head back to watch her. From his angle she appeared to be walking on the ceiling. The swish of her hips seemed familiar but different from his vantage point. When she pushed back a strand of her hair he expected it to fall down, above her head, but it stayed miraculously in place on her back.

House couldn't explain the strange feeling he felt when watching her. It was something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long, long time. He felt warm inside, like his organs were rapped in a big down blanket. He felt fuzzy, and not from the drink, but from some kind of inner peace that her presence had wrapped him in. But the strangest feeling of all was that he quite liked it. He enjoyed the comfort of her presence, even if they weren't touching, weren't even talking, just seeing her there, knowing she was taking care of him made him feel…happy.

"Drink slowly," she said, handing him the glass. She sat down in the chair he had last seen her in and watched him. Her eyes betrayed her pain.

"I'm sorry Cuddy," he mumbled through the glass.

"I know," she replied softly. "Now get some rest. You're going to feel like shit in the morning." She smiled weakly. She looked tired.

"And you'll be here to gloat." His voice rang with hope.

"Yep." For a fraction of a second a warm, genuine smile flashed across her face. Then she tucked him in and kissed him on the forehead, not willing to get any closer to his alcohol and vomit breath than she had to and headed back to his room. "Goodnight House."

"Goodnight Cuddy." He fell asleep with a hint of a smile in the corner of his lips.


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE**

House moaned in his sleep. Anyone passing by might think he was having a very good dream when in fact he was in the middle of a nightmare. In his nightmare, brought on by some unpleasant ideas planted in his head by Wilson with the aide of a bottle of middle shelf bourbon, House was at a funeral.

At first he thought he was reliving Amber's funeral, a living nightmare in which his best friend wasn't speaking to him and Cuddy stood by the grieving Wilson's side, instead of his side, where she rightfully belonged, at least in his mind.

He looked for them in the crowd as he had done then and continued to do when haunted by the same dream. This time, however, he couldn't find them. There was no Wilson and no Cuddy amid the faceless grievers, all with their black clad backs turned toward him as he walked through them, searching.

A shining white casket stood over a freshly dug grave. It seemed to hover in mid air, but was really resting on a thin scaffolding that all but vanished into the grey pallor that hung over the day, or night, he wasn't sure which it was.

Amber's funeral had been during the day, a sunny day in early June; an otherwise perfect day; the kind of day young brides dreamed about for their wedding, the kind of day people fell in love. It was not the kind of day that people wanted to bury a vibrant young woman just starting her life.

This was not that day. It was dark and gloomy, the outer reflection of House's inner emotions. House didn't need to look in the coffin. He knew what he would see there, but this being his nightmare he was compelled by an unseen force who wished him great harm.

Wilson lay on his back, arms folded over his chest. He was in a nice black suit. House felt his breath catch in his throat as a hand reached out behind him and landed on his shoulder. He would have given anything in that moment for the hand to be Cuddy's, to turn and fall into her arms and have her brush this all away. Instead he faced Wilson's third wife, Julie.

"You killed him," she accused.

House stared at her, a stare of utter disbelief. He refused to accept what she was saying. Even when she was joined by Wilson's second wife Bonnie and his first wife Cindy, the three of them pointing at him and spitting their accusations at him as he tried to back away.

"You killed him. He's dead because of you." A crowd was forming now, all saying the same thing. House searched for Cuddy. He needed a familiar face to come to his aide. He needed her to save him, once again.

"No…" House tossed and then he turned. He thought he saw her, in the distance, walking away. "CUDDYYYYYY!" He called out to her, reaching his arm above the crowd that was slowly closing in on him.

He felt himself drowning. Drowning in a sea of accusations and the bitter realization that it didn't really matter if they were true, Julie and Bonnie and all the rest of the mob believed it, and that was truth enough for them. He felt himself being pulled under their oppressive weight. He felt himself descending into darkness. "CUDDDddyyyyyy," his voice faded as he called to her, hoping she would turn to him, hoping she would save him.

His eyes fluttered open as he felt something warm against his cheek. The warm, soft shushing sound calmed him enough to grasp where he was.

"Are you alright?" Cuddy was looking down at him. She was wearing one of his tee shirts. It was big on her, and yet just barely managed to hide the tops of her thighs from his view. She caught him looking at her. "I hope you don't mind." She blushed. She hadn't asked if she could borrow something to sleep in. He'd been passed out drunk by the time she realized she would need a change of clothes.

"Mind?" his mind was still trying to process what had been a dream and what was now real.

"I'll take that as a no." She slid her hand off his cheek and let it rest for a moment on his chest. She was checking his heartbeat for irregularities.

House went over the facts in his head. Wilson wasn't dead. Cuddy was right here with him. He wasn't being attacked by a faceless mob. Cuddy was wearing nothing but his tee shirt. He grinned sloppily. He was still reeling from the vast amount of alcohol still coursing through his veins. "You're pretty."

She smiled back at him, unable to stop herself. "Thank you. You're drunk."

"Wanna make out?" He wanted something happy to make him forget the sight of his best friend laying in that coffin.

Cuddy looked at him, stunned. "You just screamed out for me as though someone were murdering you. I thought something had happened to you. And now you want to make out?" She shook her head, hoping to get things to make sense. "What's going on with you House?"

She was sitting on the edge of the sofa, in the small hole caused by him pushing back against the sofa to accommodate his legs. She had a hand still resting on his chest gently. His hand was resting on her legs, not with any lascivious intentions but more because he had to feel her near him, the warmth of his skin reassured him that this wasn't just more dreaming.

"I had a bad dream." He wasn't sure how much he wanted to share with her, or how much she would want him to share.

She was puzzled for a moment as she let it sink in. "I never really thought of you as the dreaming type."

"I dream about you all the time," he said, trying to be sexy but not really feeling it with the onset of a hangover and knowing he smelled of vomit and alcohol. "But this wasn't one of those dreams."

She searched his face for a clue as to how much he wanted to tell her. "What kind of dream was it?"

"I dreamed that Wilson was dead and I was being accused of killing him." He looked at his hand on her leg, the long, masculine fingers against her delicate porcelain skin was a beautiful study in contrast. He became mesmerized by the image.

"Oh, that's awful." She leaned over him, wrapping her arms around him in a tender embrace. "Why would you dream of that?" She didn't pull away. Instead her body weight slowly pressed on top of him as she settled in.

"I…Wilson said something to me today. We were talking about Amber." It was part of the truth at least.

"Why don't you come sleep in the bed?" She finally pulled herself off him after a bit of a silence.

"You mean MY bed?" He teased, trying to put the nightmare behind him.

"Come on." She opted to pull him to his feet instead of bickering with him over semantics.

"I smell like crap." House was self conscious about it. He didn't want her associating that stench with sleeping with him.

"You look like crap too." She hoisted his arm over her shoulders and began to head for the bedroom.

"That was helpful."

"I'll run you a bath."

"I might drown."

"I won't let you drown House." She had no idea how strongly those words had impacted him. She didn't know about the nightmare, about the feeling of drowning that had come over him or about how desperately he was searching for her, wanting her to come and save him.

"Good to know." He felt her lower him to the bed and began to undo his pants. "Aren't you going to run the water first? Or can't you wait to get me undressed?" He craned his head up to look at her and wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but the room started spinning wildly when he did, so he let his head fall back against the mattress.

"Fine." She left his jeans unzipped but still covering his long legs and headed for the bathroom.

House fumbled to finish the work she had started. It wasn't easy in a room spinning around at the speed this one was. He was far worse off than he'd thought. Usually he could sleep a bender off fairly quickly, but this one had gotten hold of him and wasn't going to go without a fight.

He felt something gurgling in his stomach, threatening to shoot its way up his esophagus. He choked it back with a grimace and shimmied the pants down his long legs.

Cuddy heard a thud and rushed back into the bedroom. She fought hard not to laugh at House, sprawled on the floor with his pants around one ankle and his head swaying back and forth. She knew he was hurting, but it was a funny image of the man she admired so greatly and often thought infallible. "You should have let me finish that." She came over and knelt beside him. House could see up his tee shirt for just a second. It was enough to make him smile like an adolescent idiot.

"You're not wearing panties," he said observantly.

"No." She pulled the jeans off his left ankle and tossed them aside. There was a stain where he had thrown up on them. "Lift your arms," she instructed as she pulled his even more stained shirt over his head.

At the same moment they both looked down at his shorts. They'd have to come off. "No way!" House grabbed his manhood protectively.

"What's wrong? I've seen you naked before." She tried to push his hands aside but he was stronger and would not budge.

"Not like this!" He was flaccid. She had always seen him at full mast.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh grow up. I've seen a man when he's not aroused. I'm sure yours is nothing special." She cringed when she realized how that had come out.

"Mine is VERY special. Too special for someone who's going to treat it like that." He was pouting.

"Come on House." She tugged at his elastic, but he would not budge.

"No."

She stopped and looked at him with a sigh. "You've got to get cleaned up. You can't take a bath in your underwear."

"No." He shifted himself further against the bed, away from her.

She breathed in deeply, pondering her options. "Fine. You won't let me see you…like this, then I'll just have to fix that." Her hands slid up the bottoms of his boxers.

"What are you doing?" He gulped nervously. He was in no condition for sex.

"I've seen you aroused before and you seem to have no problem with that. So…" she let his imagination fill in the blank.

"Fine! You win!" He let go of his death grip on his shorts and began to slip them off.

"Good boy." She smiled and helped the now naked man to his feet.

He swayed a little and she had to grab him to keep him from falling over.

Somehow, and it surprised them both, she managed to get him into the tub with only a large splash of water overflowing the side. House leaned back against the tub and watched her run the soap around and around in her hands, building up a lather. He swooned as her hands began to rub his chest gently, pushing the soap into his dirty flesh.

He closed his eyes and moaned, letting the experience wash away thoughts of anything else.

"I heard about Henry." Clearly Cuddy didn't want to shut out the rest of the world.

"Who?" House looked at her as he let the real world sink back into his mind. "Oh, the patient. Psychosomatic coma. Not my field."

"What do you mean it's not your field? You're his doctor." She lathered up her hands again then slid them along his arms, raising each one in turn to get at him from all angles.

"He should be in psych. I don't deal with delusional patients." House was trying to dismiss Henry as quickly as he could. He couldn't deal with mental cases.

"You're going to deal with this one." She wasn't willing to let him off the hook that easily. "He was relatively fine when he was admitted."

"He had a cyst." House protested.

"A benign cyst. And now he's in a coma. I know your bedside manner isn't up to par, but you're now putting your patients into self induced comas?" She didn't believe the company line; that Henry had put himself in the coma, but she was willing to play along for now.

"I didn't do that to him," House declared as he leaned forward, giving her access to his back.

"Did your drinking tonight have anything to do with your patient's condition?" She could feel his strong, well defined muscles under his taut skin. She lingered longer than was necessary on his strong shoulders and the gentile curve of his back.

"No," he lied.

"Really?" She didn't believe him.

House leaned back again, now that she was done with his back, and placed one of his legs up over the side of the tub.

"This isn't about him talking to his dead wife?" She wasn't sure what House really thought of it all, but she knew that kind of thing would unnerve him, especially if what Kutner said about the coma was true.

"Nope." House squirmed a little as her fingers tickled down the inside of his leg. "Don't do that."

"Sorry." She wasn't really, and she did it again on the other leg.

"I don't know what voodoo Kutner is trying to sell you, but Henry Rose did not slip into a coma just because I told him his wife was dead."

"It's not voodoo House. You know perfectly well that stress cardiomyopathy is a valid…"

"Broken heart syndrome?" House couldn't believe she'd gone there. "That's not what happened."

"No, but this could be something similar." He saw her hand vanish under the soapy water and waited with anticipation to see where on his body it would land. He gasped despite himself as he felt the fingers gently gliding up his thigh, over his scar.

"I expected more from you Cuddy." He shook his head in disappointment.

"No you didn't." Her fingers slipped under his manhood, which hovered slightly in the buoyant water.

She had a point, but it was lost as he closed his eyes and willed her to take him in her hand. She didn't, and the desire that her abstention left was deafening. He ignored whatever it was she was saying and lost himself in the warm water.

The memory of his nightmare was slowly being washed away by Cuddy's gentle hands and hushed words. She had stopped talking to him about the case, realizing she was only banging her head against his stubborn brick wall. Instead she had begun to tell him about her day, knowing he wasn't really listening, but aware that he didn't want her to stop.

"We should go away for the weekend," he pronounced as she helped him to his feet, careful that he didn't fall on the slippery porcelain of the tub.

"What?" Had she heard him correctly?

"Isn't that what couples do? They go away for the weekend. We should do that." He didn't want to have a long, drawn out discussion about it. He just wanted to do it.

"Did you have some place in mind?" She was willing, if he was.

"How about I surprise you?" A grin flashed across his now mostly sober face. The bath had worked wonders, as had her tender touch and he was feeling more like himself.

She cringed. She wasn't sure she could handle House's idea of a surprise, but he seemed to be taking this relationship more seriously than she'd ever hoped, and she didn't want to do anything to make him run back into his self protective shell. "Great." She smiled like someone had just given her a gift of dog crap in a bag.

The look was not lost on House. "It will be." He had no idea what the surprise would be but he was sure Wilson would think of something good. "Shall we go to bed?"

The twinkle in her eye told him his answer. House, still as naked as the day he was born swaggered toward the bed, ignorant of Cuddy's smirk as she watched his ass swishing back and forth with a limp.

"Are you going to try to take advantage of me Dr. House?" She teased; almost certain she would let him if he did try.

"Always," he replied, though his lids became heavy and his muscles protested with fatigue.

In less than fifteen minutes House was motionless and snoring. Cuddy curled up against him with a smile on her lips. Life with House wasn't turning out as bad as she'd feared.


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER TWENTY SIX**

House flagged Wilson down in the hallway. "I need your help. This is important." He pulled Wilson into a private room.

"Is everything alright with Henry?" Henry had become a favorite among the hospital staff. Though a cranky old man, understandable given his deteriorating condition, he was a remarkable storyteller who had lived quite an amazing life. He told the doctors of his daring does as a soldier in WWII. He told the sweet young nurses of his love affair with Jan Beane, the woman he knew he would marry the day he met her, he impressed anyone who would listen with stories of life as a war correspondent, his job after leaving the army himself, tales of his travels around the world and he did so with such detail and enthusiasm it was as if he were taking them on a tour of another time, reliving every moment.

"He's in a coma. Does that sound like everything is alright? But this isn't about him. It's about Cuddy."

"Is she alright?" Wilson was confused but concerned.

"I'm taking her away for the weekend, it's supposed to be a surprise and I need you to set it up."

"Where are you taking her?" Wilson was giddy, but tried unsuccessfully to hid it.

"I'm sure you'll think of somewhere good." House turned to leave, hoping to avoid more questions but his damned leg failed him.

"You want me to plan your romantic weekend with your girlfriend?" Wilson waited for his friend to turn around. "And what's in it for me?"

"A weekend to yourself."

Wilson thought about that, and it sounded kind of nice. "Fine, I'm in. But you can't complain if you don't like what I plan for you."

"Then plan something I'll like." House turned and left successfully this time, aided by his pager which had begun to beep frantically. "Gotta go."

Wilson headed to his office to work out the details of his friend's weekend. He would have appreciated some input by House, but he would have been an idiot to have expected any.

He felt someone watching him and looked up from a bed and breakfast website to see Cuddy standing in his doorway. "Hi," he said guiltily.

"What are you doing?" She walked over and peered over his monitor.

"Nothing." Wilson quickly clicked his email open to disguise his true work.

She smiled at him. "I know you're trying to plan House's weekend getaway." He blushed. "Do not send us to Atlantic City."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Wilson had more sense than that, which is why House had asked him to make arrangements instead of doing it himself.

"What are you dreaming of?" She stuck her nose once again over the top of his monitor, but he hadn't taken down his email and she was faced with a long line of messages.

"I was thinking of a nice bed and breakfast on the shore."

She nodded approvingly. "There's a place in Old Greenwich I read about, Harbor House Inn I think it was called."

Wilson smirked. "I'll see what I can do." His words were dismissive. He wanted her to leave so he could get back to his work.

"Okay," she said hesitantly, trying to decipher the look on his face. "But no gambling, no crowded places, I want something romantic, near the water, peaceful…"

"I got it. You can go now." Wilson did not like his new job as travel agent, but since House had assigned him the task, he was going to do it his way.

"I'm just saying…"

"I hear you. Now get out." Wilson had stood up, hoping that would help make his point.

While Wilson was dealing with Cuddy's intrusion, House was dealing with Henry's awakening.

Kutner and Taub were hovered over Henry's bed, checking his eyes for dilatation, his pulse for quickening and his heart for irregularities. Henry, his ever charming self, was complaining about all the attention.

Taub noticed House and looked up. "This would be a lot easier if we had a third doctor helping."

"You want my help?" House asked, not moving to help them.

"He was talking about 13," kutner said, not looking up from his work.

"I'm working on finding a replacement," House informed them, knowing that they wanted him to beg 13 to return.

"Great," Taub said unenthusiastically.

"Now can we talk about the patient?"

"The patient," Henry interrupted before either doctor could speak, "is fine, other than these two clowns poking at me."

"You do know you were in a coma, right?" House wondered just how far Henry's psychosis went.

"Really? I thought I was on vacation in the Bahamas."

"What year is it?" House was starting to develop a theory based on Henry's mood and topic of discussion.

"It's 2009. What year is it where you are?"

"2009." House smiled. "I'll come back when you're more agreeable." He headed out the door.

"That's it?" Kutner hurried after him. "You don't want to check him yourself?"

"I trust you."

"He just woke up from a coma House. Don't you care?"

"I find it interesting." That wasn't necessarily the same as caring, but it was House's version of it.

"Interesting how?" Kutner had taken this job to learn from House. Instead he felt like he was House's assistant, doing the work House couldn't be bothered doing himself.

Taub, having finished with Henry came and joined his colleagues. "Are we discussing anything important?" If they were, he didn't want to be left out.

"I was about to tell Kutner why I find our patient interesting." House took a moment, hoping that one of them would figure it out.

"And why is that, Dr. House?" There was a hint of patronization in Taub's voice that, among those who have worked for House only Taub could get away with, do to their closeness in age and years of experience.

House opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then said "I'll let you figure it out." He was trotting down the hall before either of them had time to process what he'd said.

Wilson was on the phone when House interrupted him. "Is that about this weekend?" He didn't wait for Wilson to end his call, but sat down and started nosing around and asking questions.

"Yes," Wilson said with his hand over the receiver. Then he gave a series of affirmative grunts into the phone before saying "I see, well, I don't think that's going to work then. Thank you for your time." He hung up.

"What's not going to work?" House said intrusively.

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Wilson shuffled some papers, conspicuously burying something.

"Why'd you do that?" House nodded in the direction of the conspicuous activity.

"What?" Wilson played innocent.

"You hid that paper." House reached over and pulled it out from the other side and looked at it. "Is this one of the candidates for 13s job?"

"She's not qualified." Wilson tried to take the resume back but House was too fast.

He looked over the paper carefully. "No. But according to your notes she's stacked." House turned the paper toward Wilson and pointed at something. "I'm assuming this doodle here is supposed to be breasts. Or are those mountains? Were you daydreaming about the Rookie's during her interview? Girl must have been boring."

"She wasn't boring."

"Right, she was hot." House looked at the overly flourished H O T drawn into the margin of the resume beside the name Cara Tanner.

"She's not right for the position." Wilson succeeded this time in taking the resume away from his friend.

"Then why do you still have her resume?" House was curious and suspicious.

"I…" Wilson began to sweat under House's accusing glare.

"You're going to ask her out," House teased.

"Did I mention she's hot?" Wilson was embarrassed, but he knew House would understand. It was a guy thing.

"No, but I think I read it somewhere." House grinned. "Now stop using my candidates as a dating service and find me a new doctor."

"Yeah, I'll get on that, and planning your weekend getaway, want me to do your taxes while I'm at it?"

"Would you?" House perked up.

"No." Wilson said definitively.

"You'd probably screw them up anyhow. I'll just have to beat tax guy at poker again this year."

"You get your poker buddy to do your taxes? Your LOSING poker buddy?"

"Yeah, how do you get yours done?"

"H&R Block." Wilson thought it was a more logical choice.

House groaned. "Don't tell Miss Rocky Mountains that. You don't want to bore her to sleep before you make it to first base."

"Where did you rush off to?" Wilson had learned over the years that the best way to derail House's snark was to simply change the subject.

"Patient came out of his coma."

"That's great." Wilson was genuinely pleased. Then again, Wilson genuinely cared about people. "Shouldn't you be checking on him?'

"I did."

"You were gone for ten minutes." It had been longer than that, but Wilson was rounding down, way down, to make his point. "Why don't you want to work on this case?"

"I am working on this case." House was insulted by Wilson's accusation.

"House, what's going on with you?" Wilson had seen the change in House, ever since he started working on this case.

"I think Henry Rose is jumping through time." House said stoically.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "You started TiVoing Lost again, didn't you?"

"I was thinking more Slaughterhouse Five actually. Billy Pilgram, horrors of war, mind dislodged, that sort of thing."

"Still, that's a bit sci-fi isn't it?"

"Science fiction is based in science."

"But it's also fiction."

"I'm not concerned with the fiction part of it." House was lost in his thoughts, trying to decide what it meant.

"Are you thinking Alzheimer's?"

At one point he had, not now. "No, that's too simple."

"Sometimes medicine is simple House. Sometimes it is just Alzheimer's. I know that's not stimulating enough for you, but he is an old man talking to his dead wife who seems more comfortable in the past than in the present. It sounds like Alzheimer's."

"Well, if it SOUNDS like Alzheimer's, let's call it a day and go get some beers."

"Okay, so you don't think it's Alzheimer's. What do you think it is?"

"If I knew I'd be treating it."

Wilson threw out several ideas which House quickly and adeptly shot down. Still, seeds were being planted slowly in House's mind. Little grains of what Wilson said were growing into diagnostic possibilities.

"Anyway, I don't want to drive any farther than three hours, nothing with stairs, and something by the water would be nice." House rose to his feet. "And not too expensive."

His talk with Wilson had been fruitful. Wilson was a good sounding board when House needed to bounce ideas off something to see what would stick. But could this be just Alzheimer's? It seemed too simple a diagnosis and House didn't trust simple.


	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN**

Henry was in the middle of one of his stories when House entered his room quietly and leaned against the back wall.

"Gerry was on our trail, literally. Lefkowitz was bleeding so badly at that point that a trail of blood marred the pristine snow and pointed Gerry straight toward our hiding place. There was nothing we could do though. O'Brian and I couldn't keep carrying Lefkowitz. I had my own injury that needed tending. Still have the mark where the bullet grazed my shoulder." Henry pulled the hospital gown sleeve up to his chin to show the small white blur on his shoulder. "Hurt like a bitch, but we had to keep going.

"Lefkowitz, bless him, told us to leave him. Maybe when Gerry found him they'd think he was alone and wouldn't come looking for us, but we couldn't do that. We were in this together. It was…"

"How long ago did this happen?" House called over the gathering crowd of nurses and doctors, each pulled in by the draw of Henry's expressive story telling.

Henry did some math in his head. "Good 68 years ago. I was just a boy. Lied about my age to go serve with my brother. He died before I was out of basic training, but by that time I felt I had a job to do, and I went to Germany to rid the world of those Nazi scum."

"Good to see you don't hold a grudge." House snided, receiving dirty looks from several of the more compassionate nurses on staff.

"I'm not holding a grudge," Henry replied. He didn't bother explaining further. He had people waiting anxiously to find out what had happened to the rest of C Company.

"What happened next?" Kutner, who had taken a seat front and center asked eagerly. "Did you get Lefkowitz out of there?"

"We did indeed." Henry smiled proudly, pointing it directly at House, almost as if to challenge him to say something. House remained silent and Henry continued. "O'Brian found some planks from a bombed out house nearby. He fashioned some crutches for old Lefty and we made a fake blood trail going off in one direction while we waited for Gerry to pass, then headed back the way we'd come."

Everyone applauded the heroic escape. Everyone except House. He was watching Henry intently, not really hearing the words coming out of the old man's mouth, but marveling at the youth in his eyes, the change in his whole demeanor. The man who had been in a coma the day before was gone. In his place was a 19 year old war hero in an old man's body.

Henry was accepting their accolades when House left. He'd seen enough.

"Things seem to be going well in there," Cuddy said, seeing her favorite doctor emerge and hurrying to greet him.

"Things aren't always what they seem." House took her hand gently in his and gave it a small, loving squeeze then let go before anyone noticed.

"Any hints about where we're going for the weekend?" She was becoming excited about their trip. It would be their first non-business trip together. She was trying hard not to make a big deal out of it, but her girly little heart couldn't help itself.

"You'll have to wait and see." As would he, but she didn't need to know that.

"Are you sure you can get away?" She looked over his shoulder into Henry's room.

"He's fine. The team can handle anything that comes up." He really didn't think anything would come up. He already had an idea of what was wrong with the old man and it wasn't as fatal as they'd originally thought.

"Okay." She was hoping he'd say that. She didn't want to put off their trip, but wanted to make sure he wouldn't have any excuses to run away leaving her wherever it was they were going.

"You're going to be stuck with me all weekend," House said rather adorably.

"Good." Cuddy looked around her quickly, then leaned in and pecked House on the cheek before anyone noticed. Without another word she turned and hurried away, her heels clicking on the floor in a fast rhythm. House waited until she was out of sight before turning and heading to his office.

A few hours later Kutner came in to find him at his desk, books strewn across the floor, discarded when they offered no help in the case of Henry Rose. House had his feet resting on a stack of paperwork piled precariously on his desk. For a split second the young man imagined pushing the pile over and watching his boss topple over himself, but he liked his job, so he refrained.

"What are you looking for?" Absentmindedly he began gathering the books and returning them to their shelves in no particular order.

"What are you doing?" House looked at him.

"Putting these away." Kutner was holding a book guiltily in mid air.

"If you're going to put them away, at least do it properly."

"And how would that be?"

"Figure it out." House went back to reading.

Kutner looked at the books he'd already put away and began to rearrange them alphabetically. "Why'd you come see Henry earlier?"

"He's my patient." House didn't look up from his book. He was reading an interesting article about Somatization Disorder.

"That's never stopped you from not bothering with him before."

"Guess I was in the mood for a good story." House finished his article and watched Kutner. "I'll be out of town this weekend. I'm putting you in charge of the case."

"What?" Kutner dropped the book he was holding.

"You're in charge. Whatever happens, deal with it. Don't call me. Don't page me. Don't send me a carrier pigeon."

"What if he dies?" Kutner was suddenly terrified. He'd never headed a case himself.

"Then there's nothing more I can do for him." House seemed amused by Kutner's discomfort.

"Shouldn't Taub be in charge? He's got more experience…"

"Which is why I'm giving you a shot. Relax. It's just a babysitting job. You'll do fine."

Kutner looked confused. "That was oddly supportive."

"Just don't screw it up." House diminished any good will between them with that missive.

He rose slowly to his feet and left Kutner to finish sorting out the bookshelf. Rather than heading to the hall, House went out onto the balcony and tapped a few times on Wilson's window before entering.

"You could have waited for me to say come in." Wilson wasn't busy. He was playing Castle Mouse on his computer, but House didn't know that.

"It was cold out there."

"You could have come in from the hall."

"That's not nearly as cool."

"What do you want House?" Wilson watched as House dropped into a comfy chair.

"Just dropped by to say hi. Can't a friend just say hi now and then?"

"A friend, yes, you no."

"Fine. Then how is my trip going?"

"The one you're making me do all the work for?" Wilson sounded so put upon.

"Yeah, that one." House didn't notice.

Sigh. "I reserved you the best room at the Overlook."

"And what's the Overlook?" House liked the best room part.

"It's…you've never heard of it? It's this beautiful old Victorian with its own lighthouse on the shore in Connecticut. Very exclusive and hard to get into. I had to buy off the couple who had booked the room…"

"How much is this going to cost me?" House narrowed his eyes.

"Isn't she worth any price?" Wilson, ever the romantic.

"No." House, never the romantic.

"I'll pay for it." House didn't realize that Wilson had found his credit card number and was holding it for just such an occasion.

"That's very generous of you," House said doubtfully. He knew there had to be a catch, he just wasn't sure what it was yet.

"Here, here's everything you need to know. Directions, a description of the room, activities nearby, have a good time House. And talk to her. Tell her how you feel."

House looked confused. "Which do you want me to do? Talk to her or have a good time?"

"Go!" Wilson pointed to the door with exasperation.

"I want a new employee when I get back."

"Yeah, fine." Wilson watched his friend leave then returned to the fifth level of Castle Mouse. He was determined to beat his high score from yesterday.


	28. Chapter 28

It feels like I haven't written in ages. I've been having trouble getting inspired after being laid off, but I'm finally past the sulking, unambitious faze and hope to be writing more often. This is a short one just to get me back into the groove, but I hope you like it.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT**

House watched through the glass as Kutner checked up on Henry. He knew she was behind him before he felt her hand rest on his shoulder but he didn't turn around.

"We don't have to go this weekend," she said softly, aware that House had formed some sort of connection with Henry Rose and wanting to encourage that kind of behavior.

"There's no reason to stay here." The finality in House's voice told the story. Henry was dying.

"How long?" Cuddy sighed as she moved beside House and looked through the glass herself.

"He'll be gone by the time we get back." House wrapped his arm around her waist. He used his weight to turn her around and led her away from Henry.

"House, we really don't have to go." She thought he might want to be there for the final hours of his patient's life. There was still so much she didn't understand about the way House's mind worked.

"Are you trying to get out of going?" He teased, but it was a forced teasing hiding both the fear that he was right and his regret at not being able to help Henry.

"Of course not."

"Then I hope you have your bags packed. We're leaving right after work." He wanted to leave now, but he knew her well enough to know she would want to stay with her 'baby' until the last possible moment. It had taken several prods to get her to agree to hand over the reins for the weekend and she was still grilling Dr. Parker about his duties.

After Dr. Parker was done with his final meeting with the boss, House pulled him aside, dragging him into the conference room with his cane.

"Excuse me?" The humorless Parker glared at his colleague.

"Oh, don't worry about it," House dismissed the man's annoyance. "And no matter what happens, don't call Cuddy to come bail you out. I don't care if this hospital is in flames, deal with it yourself."

"I intend to keep the hospital from catching fire Dr. House. So you don't need to worry about it." He turned to leave but House caught his arm.

"I'm holding you to that." House's voice was mildly threatening.

"Or what? You'll beat me up?" Parker pulled his arm away and left the room just as Cuddy was opening her office door. He glared at her as he stormed off.

Cuddy watched as House sheepishly exited the conference room thinking an inconspicuous amount of time had passed since Parker left. He stopped cold when he saw her leaning against her door, arms crossed, weekend bag on the floor at her side.

"What was that about?" Cuddy asked, tapping her foot.

"What was what?" House pretended innocence.

"Dr. Parker looked pissed."

"Dr. Parker needs an enema." House walked over and picked up her bag.

"Be that as it may, I hope you didn't do something to antagonize him. Dr. Parker doesn't like you."

"No one likes me."

"He doesn't like you more than most people don't like you. I wouldn't screw with him if I were you."

"You'd be too busy screwing with you if you were me." House smiled and hobbled off before she could insist on carrying her own bag. He might be an invalid, but he was still a gentleman, when he wanted to be.

Cuddy tried to work that out for a moment, shook it off, and followed him out of the hospital.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" She started asking before they got in the car. It was now an hour into the trip and she asked for a fourth time.

"No."

"You do know don't you?" She was teasing him, not realizing she was inching closer and closer to a very sore spot.

House tried to ignore her, focusing on the road ahead.

"Didn't Wilson tell you?" Cuddy was oblivious to the tension coming from the seat beside her but she'd pushed too far.

"I don't need Wilson to tell me anything!" He pushed his foot violently on the gas pedal, feeling the speed of the vintage car humming around him.

Cuddy watched as he sped past the exit that lead to I-95. "Wasn't that the turn?"

"The turn to where?" House shot at her.

"House, where are we going?" Her voice held a nervousness that wasn't there before.

"It's a surprise," he said almost menacingly.

"I don't like surprises." She looked anxiously at the quickly rising speedometer.

"Everybody likes surprises." House didn't believe that. He certainly didn't like surprises.

It was already getting dark when House pulled onto a long, winding dirt road.

"Are we lost?" Cuddy had been sleeping, her head nuzzled against the side window and woke when she felt the car shaking along the dirt.

"We're not lost." An image flashed through her mind. It was him, an axe in his hands, blood smeared on the blade while pieces of Cuddy's body lay scattered around the forest floor. He shook his head and it was gone.

"Then where are we going? This isn't The Outlook."

"Did you tell Wilson to book that?" House eyed her suspiciously.

"I might have." She quickly looked away.

"Nice to know you have faith in me."

Cuddy suddenly felt embarrassed. She felt her cheeks turning red.

"I have an uncle," House mused.

Cuddy waited for more, then tried to pull it out. "I have two, what's your point?"

"I don't really talk to him." House was focusing on the road.

She was about to say something snarky, but stopped herself. House glanced over, waiting. A small part of him wanted her to reply with some smart ass comment. He wanted her to piss him off so he would stop opening up to her, but she just sat and waited for what was going to come out next.

"He has a cabin. I used to come here as a kid, over summer break. My father would ship me away so he wouldn't have to look at me."

"House!" Cuddy didn't like the sad, bitter sound in his voice.

"I called my uncle the other day." He didn't need Wilson to do his work for him. He only needed Wilson to cause a diversion.

Cuddy's mouth hung open. She smiled. Her face lit up the darkness that had engulfed them. "You never cease to amaze me House." She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

House wanted to stop the car then and there, turn to her and pull her into his arms, but he kept driving. It had taken longer than expected and he really needed to go to the bathroom. He replaced her embrace with a few Vicodin, expertly popped into his mouth single handedly as his eyes remained on the winding, increasingly treacherous path before them.

Cuddy was mulling over House's surprise. "But what about Wilson's…"

"A clever ploy, House smirked at his own genius.

"Does he know?"

"No one knows." House grinned. "I could hack you into little pieces and no one would ever know where to find your body."

"HOUSE!" Cuddy shoved him, careful not to distract him from his driving but just enough to annoy him. "Don't talk like that."

"What's the matter? Are you scared?" He was teasing her. He knew her love of scary movies. He remembered taking her to a midnight screening of Evil Dead, and while it was more cheesy than scary, he did like how she curled up into his arms during the particularly scary parts.

"No." She was a tough cookie. "Besides, you don't strike me as a necrophiliac, so I don't think I have anything to worry about." She knew exactly what this weekend was about. He wanted sex.

"Of course not," he replied, trying to put a little doubt in his voice. He knew she wouldn't really think he wanted to kill her, but it was fun trying to convince her he might.

Cuddy was about to reply when the cabin appeared out of the darkness. It was a beautiful log structure, not the rambling shack he had her imagining, but a stunning two story home set only a few feet from the water. "It's beautiful." Cuddy was in awe.

"Wait till you see the inside." House pulled the car up into a covered car port and got out. He hadn't been to Uncle Tom's cabin in a long time, but it looked much the same as it had decades ago. Uncle Tom had inherited the land from his grandfather. Blythe, Tom's sister and House's mother, had gotten nothing. By the time Grandfather had died, she was John House's liability, not his.

Little Greg had been too young to fully appreciate the resentment between Blythe and Tom. All he knew was that for two months each year, after school was out, he got to get away from his asshole father and enabling mother and spend time in the wilderness with his cool uncle who taught him to hunt and fish and build fires and liked to play cowboys and Indians. It was the happiest part of his childhood, and it came to an abrupt end when he was twelve and had to move across the world to some base in Japan.

Greg had cried, alone, in his room, terrified to let his hard father see his tears. He hadn't wanted to leave. He wanted to stay with Uncle Tom forever. Being back here now brought a flood of memories he thought he could handle, but now that he was experiencing them, he wanted a drink. A very large, very potent drink.

"I'll go start a fire." House headed inside where his uncle had promised there would be everything he needed. Before heading to the well stocked fireplace, he checked out the even more well stocked bar. He fixed himself a brandy then set to work.

Cuddy spent a minute looking at the scene before her. The moon was dancing on the gently rippling water. It was a large lake, but she could see the other side, the thick forest of trees that rimmed it. There didn't seem to be another home in sight. They were truly secluded.

She felt a shiver run down her back as the night air turned colder, the last of the suns warmth having worn away. She headed inside where House was standing before a crackling fire. "That's just what I needed." She walked over to him and took the glass out of his hand, took a long sip and handed it back. She smiled at him, hoping to ward off any malice at her boldness.

"Do you like it?" House felt an odd pride in surprising her with the cabin. He knew as soon as he said he wanted to surprise her, that she would expect him to turn to Wilson, so he did. And he knew she would be coaching Wilson on the side, so he let her. He let them both think that he couldn't wipe his own ass without their help. That way, when he brought her here, it would truly be a surprise. And she would have to accept that this was something he did, on his own, for her.

"I love it House." She had a bit of moisture in the corner of her eyes. She sniffled them back before they betrayed her. She was deeply touched by his efforts, and truly ashamed that she didn't think he could do such a thing.

'I love you'. The words actually caught in his throat and never made it out into the world, but he was determined. By the end of this weekend, he would tell her how he felt about her.


	29. Chapter 29

Brace yourselves kids, this is a smutty one! It does get a bit graphic toward the end. Not suitable for younger viewers. Please get a parents permission before reading. If you don't want to get your parents permission, well, just don't tell me about it. I have enough problems without adding corruption of minors to the list. :)

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY NINE**

Cuddy stood staring into the fire. The warmth against her skin and the brandy running through her veins left her head fuzzy. They had finished the steaks House cooked on the grill and her stomach felt comfortably full. The evening had been a pleasant one.

"Why don't you sit down?" House was laid out comfortably on the couch. The only thing missing was her warm body curled up against him.

"I was just thinking," her words faded away.

"This is no time for thinking. Come here." He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. It was a vulnerable gesture, one that did not usually come naturally to him, but one that he couldn't stop, no matter how hard he'd tried.

She turned away from the fire and smiled at him. He could see she was buzzed, her eyes were soft and her smile wistful. She placed her glass on the mantel and took his hand gently. "I'm glad you invited me here House." She walked toward him slowly, steadily as if walking was no longer second nature to her.

"I'm glad you came." He was watching her with great interest. He had realized weeks ago that this thing, this relationship if that's what it was, had to go at her pace. He had hurt her before; he had toyed with her emotions too many times for him to be the one calling the shots. He didn't like it. He didn't like surrendering control to someone else, but he realized now that this was how it had to be. He had blown his chance to be in control. If he wanted to be with her now it was going to be on her terms.

He wasn't really sure which had been harder, admitting to himself that he was in love with her, or allowing her to know how he felt without his saying it yet. As much as he picked on her about it, he knew she wasn't stupid. She would not be where she was today if she wasn't one of the smartest women he'd ever known. She was savvy and knew how to play the game, and she usually knew when she was being played.

He searched her eyes for some sign, some clue that she knew he wasn't playing this time. He couldn't say the words until he knew she knew he was for real. It was a twisted, serpentine logic that could ruin everything, but it was him. He had to do things his way, at least as much as he was able.

"You look beautiful in the firelight." He was staring at her and realized he should say something. Small talk was not his strong suit, so he said the first thing he could think of, no matter how ridiculous he thought it sounded.

"Thank you," she smiled, lifting his arm and slipping gently beneath it. She pulled his arm around her arms and snuggled up against him. It was a position she could happily maintain for the night.

House sniffed at the hair that had fallen against his nose. "You smell nice too." He mentally kicked himself.

Cuddy laughed gently, trying not to. "You don't have to keep complimenting me House. It's a little unsettling." She was more used to T&A jokes from him.

"Then what do you want me to do?" He managed to free his other arm and pulled a piece of her hair out of his mouth with a spit.

Cuddy slipped her hand over her head, trying to control the frizz that must be tickling his nose. "You lived with Stacy for five years. You must know what to do when you're alone with a woman."

"We mostly argued." At least that's how he remembered it.

"Five years is too long to be together if all you're doing is arguing."

"We had great sex too." House grinned. She'd walked into that one.

"So I've heard." It was her turn to grin, though she was gazing at the fire and he missed out on the effect.

"You used to talk about my sex life?" House was interested, if not a bit worried.

"She was a close friend. Women talk about these things." Cuddy realized she probably shouldn't have said anything.

"Did you tell her about us?" It would explain a lot.

"No." There were some things women didn't talk about. Sleeping with each other's boyfriends was high on the list.

"So I was your dirty little secret?" House's hand was resting on her hip now. His thumb slipped up under the very end of her shirt, sliding back and forth along the waistband of her skirt.

"No. I just didn't see any reason to talk about it." She felt warmth wash over her as his thumb teased her waist.

"You could have given her tips." House was proud of himself for that one.

"You're not that complicated House."

"I most certainly am!"

"Not in bed." Of course, he'd been much younger then. Surely he had developed a bit more of a repertoire over the years, but she enjoyed having the opportunity to take him down a few notches.

"You don't insult a man's manhood. That's just cruel," House said, frowning. He thought he made more of an impression than that.

"You'll get over it," she teased.

"I never have," he mumbled softly, wistfully.

"Hmmm?" She hadn't quite caught that.

"The bedroom's just down that hall." He wanted to change the subject, quickly.

"That was subtle." She laughed.

"Why do you think I brought you here?"

"Because you love me." She was testing him. His reaction would answer a question she'd had for a while now. Did he love her, or was this just about sex?

Unfortunately, House was very good at hiding his true feelings, even though she'd completely blindsided him with that. "There you go, confusing love and lust again."

"Then why did you bring me here?" She turned to face him. He winced as her weight shifted on top of him and she accidentally hit his leg. He saw instantly the change in her demeanor and cursed under his breath. "Oh! Are you okay?" She looked panicked, frightened that she'd hurt him.

"Don't!" House pushed her hands away from him. Now she looked hurt. He saw the pain and guilt, in her eyes. The pain was new, the guilt was always there. "I'm fine," he said, defeated. The weekend was ruined. His body has once again betrayed him.

She had to fight the urge to push him too far, to ask if he was sure, to mother him and care for him. She knew he didn't like it, but it was instinct. She couldn't help herself. She loved him and she hated seeing him in pain.

She watched, trying to keep her face neutral, as he popped a few Vicodin in his mouth and chased them down with some brandy.

House let the brandy work its way slowly into his veins, easing his muscles and loosening the tight grip he had on his tongue. "I brought you here because I want you here." He still couldn't bring himself to tell her why.

"What does that mean House?" It was like pulling teeth, trying to get the smallest fragment of information out of him. She thought she knew what he was not saying, she wished she was right, but she wouldn't allow herself to believe it, not until she heard the words come out of his mouth. She didn't want to set herself up for a fall, if she was wrong.

"It means I want you to come with me to the bedroom." He rose to his feet as he spoke and held out his hand to her. He held his breath as he waited for her to take it.

Cuddy realized that she couldn't force House to say something he wasn't ready to say. As much as she wanted to continue to discuss his feelings for her, she knew it was pointless. Once he clammed up, there was no prying him open. She had a choice to make. Accept what he was offering, or walk away.

She looked into the deep blue pools of his eyes and realized she couldn't walk away. She extended her hand and rose to her feet.

House felt nervous. His palm was getting sweaty. He wanted to pull his hand out of hers, wipe it off on his shirt, but he didn't dare. She might not take it back. He tried to fool himself into believing she didn't notice that he was clutching her too tightly, that his hand was threatening to slip out of hers with the lubrication of his nervous sweat, but he knew better. She was perceptive, too perceptive. She knew.

He led her quietly to the bedroom. His leg ached with each step and he was glad he was walking in front of her, so she couldn't see his face wince with pain. She was, however, aware of his pronounced limp, though she knew better than to say anything. Instead she followed him in silence.

"This is where the magic is about to happen," he said, flipping on the light switch and stepping aside so she could see the room. A large bed sat in the center of the room, four heavy posts stood at each corner. A stone fireplace lined one wall and two heavily curtained windows filled the opposite. That was about all Cuddy saw before she leaned across House's quick beating chest and flipped the light off.

"We don't need that," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself up to his mouth. She had always liked tall men, something about the vulnerability she felt having to look up to them excited her.

"What do we need?" He asked, slipping his hands under her shirt.

"You need to shut up," she replied, kissing him deeply.

His hands slipped up her back, stopping briefly on their journey to fumble with the clasp of her bra. He popped it open with two fingers and she felt the fabric loosen around her chest. She pushed herself tighter against him as his hands continued up. His forearm had caught her shirt which was rising up her back. The cabin was cool inside and the night air whispered across her flesh swiftly.

She shivered against him and he pulled her away. "I won't let you stay cold for long," he said as he pulled the shirt up over her head.

"You'd better not," she warned, burying herself in his arms.

"You are so beautiful," he lamented as his hands ran down her arms, feeling her soft flesh, making sure she was really there, in his arms.

"You said that already." She didn't want him to talk. She wanted him to kiss her, and keep kissing her while he made passionate love to her. They could talk later.

"I thought women liked hearing that." He dragged his tee shirt up over his head and threw it too the floor. His chest and his arms were the two parts of his body he was most proud of. One of the better side effects of the infarction was a dramatic increase in the muscle tone of his upper body. He hadn't looked this buff since his lacrosse days at high school, only then his muscle was built on top of a nerdy thin frame. He had filled out, as a man, since then. He looked good, from the waist to the neck.

"All I want to hear is you panting breathlessly on top of me." When Cuddy wanted something, she didn't beat around the bush. She was ready now, and she was making sure House knew it. She didn't want him to hesitate, to worry that she wasn't ready or that he was pushing her away. She wanted him now and she was going to have him.

"I can do that." House liked this more aggressive woman. The Cuddy he had known in college, the Cuddy he had made love to back then hadn't been quite this aggressive. Forward, yes, she had always made it known when she wanted something, and she had always gone after it, but back then, she had been more…gentle.

Almost as if to prove she was no longer that gentle girl, Cuddy shoved him onto the bed so forcefully that his body bounced slightly on impact. If the bed hadn't been extra soft she would have knocked the wind right out of him, not that he cared.

He watched excitedly in the shadowed room as she mounted him, her legs straddling his thighs. He noticed that she was careful not to put her weight on his scar. He mistook her fear of hurting him for repulsion of his physical deformity. It didn't bother him as much as it would have had her fingers not been deftly unzipping his fly at that moment.

He gulped nervously. He had been flying solo ever since their kiss. He had tried to entertain himself with hookers, but found it hard to get beyond a little oral stimulation. His mind always wondered to Cuddy and what she would think if she knew. It had been only a couple weeks, but he felt rusty. What if he couldn't live up to her expectations?

That was why he hadn't wanted to wait. The more time passed, the more her memory of their time together would become romanticized. The expectations would grow exponentially with each passing night they spent in separate beds. He hadn't needed to impress a woman in bed for a long time. The stakes were different than they were with a hooker who only wanted her money at the end of the night. Cuddy wanted a lot more from him than his money.

"I'd much rather see you naked." House reached out to grab her, but she pushed him back down. Then she rose to her feet and peeled off the rest of her clothing, slowly, tauntingly. He ached to reach out and touch her, but he was also enjoying the show.

"You never were any good with patience." She tossed the last piece, her pink satin thong, at his head. He caught it and held it bundled in his large hand. He planned on keeping it as a souvenir.

"Maybe we'll just have to play doctor and you can teach me." He grinned. He knew that wasn't what she meant, but went there anyway.

"I could teach you a lot of things." She was once again on top of him, this time quite naked. She slowly stalked the length of his body, crawling on her hands and knees above him. He had to remind himself to start breathing again as all the oxygen in his body abandoned him to whatever fate she had in store.

"Please do." He doubted there was anything she could teach him that he didn't already know, but he was willing to fake it.

"Well, let's start with making the patient feel comfortable." She rested herself carefully on his stomach, her legs on either side of him. He could feel the tuft of hair against his skin. It made him ache to feel it just a few inches farther down, but it was a good ache, one he hadn't felt this strongly in a long time, and he was willing to let it fester and build inside him until he was unable to control it. She'd just better be very careful or she would have an atomic explosion on her hands.

Cuddy leaned over him, her breasts hanging into his face. One nipple hovered over his mouth and he let his tongue slip stealthily out to greet it. Cuddy flinched as the wet tip of his tongue brushed across her not yet hard nipple but she did not pull away. She was fluffing his pillow, pretending to make him more comfortable.

House reached his hands out and grabbed her ass, which had to lift off him for her to reach behind his head. She sat up quickly and slapped his hand away. "Every doctor at some point has to deal with an ornery patient." She pinned his arms beneath her strong legs.

"Don't you mean a horny patient? I bet you get a lot of those." House licked his lips, not in some attempt to be seductive but because his mouth was achingly dry all of a sudden.

"I know how to deal with horny patients." She smiled proudly down at him.

"By all means, show me how you do it."

"All in good time." She had noticed a glass, a pitcher of water and an ice bucket set up. House must have snuck in and set that up earlier. He couldn't have imagined how it was going to come in handy. "First we have to check for a temperature." She smirked.

"You are NOT shoving a thermometer up my ass!" House was all for roleplaying, but he had to have rules.

She laughed lightly. "I don't need one. I'm that good." She leaned over and pressed her lips to his sweat beaded forehead. "You're burning up."

"You don't have to be a doctor to figure that out." He was frustrated with being pinned down, but he was so turned on by the game that he fought with himself to remain still, at least for now. He was curious how far she was willing to take this.

"I'm going to have to cool you down." She reached over and pulled an ice cube out of the bucket. "It's a good thing the nurse came and prepared your room."

House grumbled. He wanted to protest her mockingly calling him a nurse, but he didn't want her to stop or this to degenerate into an argument like things between them usually did, so he bit his tongue and shivered as drops of icy water fell onto his chest.

"I know it's cold, but it's for your own good." She carefully touched the ice to his skin and glided it slowly over the swell of his well formed chest. She could feel the ice melting in her fingers as she moved it down along his aorta thoracica.

"For your own good is the sadist definition of torture." House's body contorted itself as his flesh chilled.

She laughed again. It was a soft, gentle sound like a small ringing bell. Sometimes it could sound like music, other times it could grate on ones nerves. At the moment it was grating on his frozen nerves terribly. "You think I'm a sadist?"

"You certainly seem to enjoy torturing me." House watched, enthralled, as she placed the melted ice cube between her lips and sucked on it gently. It was a torture almost more unendurable than the ice on his chest. He longed to be that cube. He wanted to feel her lips caressing him and sucking on him with as much passion as she was sucking on that small piece of ice.

She was thinking. The sucking was just something to distract her from House as she did. It was an absent minded gesture. She always thought better when she had something in her mouth. Her sister used to tease her mercilessly about it, when they were both old enough to understand the double meaning of oral fixation.

"But sadists like to see their victims in pain. I don't like seeing you in pain House. I just like tormenting you." She stuck the ice cube, now more of a small ice blob, half way out of her mouth and bent over him. With it still lodged between her lips she slid the ice over his nipples, one at a time. He felt the double torment of her lips gently gliding over his skin and the sting of the ice burning his hot flesh.

He struggled beneath her. The tormenting was over. He wanted his power back. But she was stronger than she looked, and was easily able to keep him down. He was curious where she'd learned exactly how to position herself so that he couldn't use his considerable size advantage against her.

"It looks like our patient is getting agitated. I hope I don't have to tie you down."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, you SADIST." He was going to use that word repeatedly, just to drive his point home.

Her answer was a huge smile. House's reply to that was a resigned scowl.

"That's better. Now, you're going to have to take your medicine."

House's eyes widened as his mind raced through all the worst possible connotations of that threat.

"Now be a good boy and open wide."

"No!" House was done playing along. If she wanted an ornery patient, she was about to get one.

"Oh, come now, Dr. House, you know I'm only doing this to help you."

"Unless you're about to toss a handful of Vicodin down my throat, I am NOT letting you medicate me."

"You'll do as you're told." She glared down at him. Her body language was tough, but there was a twinkle in her eye that he hadn't seen before. She was really enjoying this.

"Yes ma'am." House would never admit it, but he was enjoying it too.

Once he stopped his protests, Cuddy leaned in and let her mouth hover centimeters from his. She could feel his breath on her lips. It was coming fast and hard. She could feel him struggling not to move toward her. He was trembling against her. But it wasn't all one sided. She felt her body aching for him. Her breath was stuck in her throat.

It wasn't that they hadn't kissed before. They had, plenty of times, but the longing had not yet worn off. There was still a deep hunger, a need that pulsated between them. Would consummating their relationship again diminish that longing? She had to stop thinking like that. Seize the moment.

Her lips finally pressed against his and the explosion of both of their bodies made the bed shudder beneath them. House forced his tongue through the fortress of her lips like a charging army. She was vulnerable now, and he took advantage of the moment, pulling his arms from under her legs, wrapping them tightly around her body, pulling her down on top of him.

She did not struggle or protest. The game was over and she was content to surrender her control to him. Cuddy liked to be taken. He learned that early in their relationship. She liked the virility of it. She liked the weight of a man on top of her, his strength as he pulled her into his arms. But never against her will. He had also learned that early on.

He had started to take her for granted, as a lover. He assumed that whenever he wanted her, she would be ready and willing to service his needs. It was the arrogance of youth, the arrogance of being a legend in her eyes. He hadn't anticipated that she would not be in the mood.

They had gone to the library to study. He walked her home. She didn't need to invite him in. It was assumed, it was expected. But her mood was different. Where they usually burst through the door, lips locked, clothes being shed in a fury of desire, this time she had quietly stepped aside and let him in. He kissed her on what ended up being her cheek as she turned away. He didn't see her choke back her tears.

He should have been able to read the signs. If he hadn't been so caught up in his own desires, he would have realized something was wrong, but he didn't. He had not yet grown out of his own selfish needs. He thought, perhaps, she was playing hard to get, trying to spice things up. So he pushed her against the wall and held her face toward his, forbidding her to turn away.

It hadn't been the first time he'd done such a thing. Sometimes she did play with him, teasing him and leading him on, pushing him to the brink then letting him take her. But when she did that, there was a sparkle in her eye, a mischievous twinkle that let him know he wasn't overstepping. If only he'd noticed that there was no twinkle that night.

It was the beginning of the end for them. As he kissed her, deeply, without ill intent, but against her will, she struggled. When he pulled away, ready to question why she was reacting so ardently, she was crying.

"What's your problem?" He didn't mean it to sound so harsh, but it did and he couldn't take that back.

"I want you to leave." She couldn't tell him that she thought she was pregnant. It would turn out later that she wasn't, it was only the stress of finals that made her period skip that month, and the news about her grandfather's cancer had caused the overeating that led to her gaining a couple pounds which she feared was baby weight, but that night, she believed it was true.

She was so young then, naive despite her experience. She had her whole life mapped out, and having a baby at nineteen was not part of the plan. She also didn't want to ruin House's life. She thought he would do the right thing. He would marry her and take responsibility for the child, but he would also grow to resent her and the baby. It was a life she did not want to live. She couldn't tell him, and condemn them both to her worst nightmare.

It was now twenty years later. She had never told him what was wrong that night. If she had, he might not have turned to her roommate. He had been so hurt by her pushing him away, so confused, he thought she didn't want him any more, he thought that if she saw that someone else did, she would change her mind. He didn't know the real reason she had pushed him away that night. He would never know.

"So, Doctor, what are you going to do now?" He had pinned her beneath him. It hadn't been easy, but he ignored the screaming pain in his leg and shifted his weight until she had no choice but to fall off to her side, and then he trapped her under his weight. "How do you handle it when a patient gets the upper hand?"

He pulled her arms up over her head. She looked most beautiful when she was flat on her back, naked, and looking at him the way she was now, with a passionate desire that would not be stopped until it had been worn out of her with vigorous sex.

"Normally I'd push the emergency button and have a nurse shove a needle in your ass." She was still feisty. He liked that about her.

"Hmmm." There was certainly something he'd like to push up her ass, but he thought it might be too soon to mention it.

She felt uneasy. "What was that for?"

"What was what for?" He put more weight on her. She was quick, and shifty. He couldn't let his guard down for a second.

"That look." She had been breathing heavily since he fought for supremacy. Now her breathing was falling back into a steady rhythm and her mind began to calculate ways to get back on top.

"What look?" He feigned innocence.

"That look you get when you're thinking up something that will cause me a lot of grief." She saw that look on a weekly basis, at least. It was a look that had saved many lives, but also cost the hospital millions in law suits. She secretly loved that look, but she wasn't about to let him know that. It would only make him harder to handle.

"Oh, THAT look." He smiled down at her. "Well, I'm about to do something to you, well, several things, I hope, that will cause you a lot of grief."

She frowned.

"Oh, don't worry," he ran a finger along her jaw line and across her soft, moist lips. "It won't hurt…much."

"HOUSE!" Her eyes grew wide and she gulped back a big lump of fear.

"It's your turn to play patient. Let's see if I learned anything." He wasn't sure he had the leg muscles to pin her down the way she had him, so instead he tied her wrists to the headboard with the his shirt, which was the only bit of clothing within reach. "It's for your own good," he told her patronizingly as she protested and squirmed beneath him.

"What are you going to do to me?" She fretted.

House looked down at her and a slow, evil smile crossed his face. "Anything I want to do to you." He wasn't going to hurt her, he just wanted to toy with her a little, the way she had toyed with him.

"I'd better check your vitals." He smirked. "That's what a GOOD doctor does." He was letting her know she'd missed that part.

His large hand cupped her right breast and applied a little pressure down on it. "I don't feel a heartbeat."

"My heart is on the other side you idiot!"

House grabbed her other breast with his other hand and squeezed it tightly. "Oh, there it is. I guess you're not heartless after all."

"Very funny." She was not amused. Turned on, but not amused. She felt his fingers kneading the sides of both breasts. "What are you doing now?" She kind of liked it.

"Breast exam. Very important for women past a certain age." He felt her nipples starting to harden against his palm. "Okay, nothing there. I think we're ready for a more thorough examination now."

"How thorough?" She gulped nervously.

"Very thorough." He was sliding his body down hers, so that he was sitting over her legs, looking along the length of her.

She felt a rush of excitement as she thought of what he might do. House was a very creative lover. There was no end to the pleasure he could cause if he wanted to. There was also no end to the torment he could cause if he wanted. She had to make sure he wanted to cause her pleasure.

"Open wide." He smirked. He wasn't talking about her mouth and she knew it. Her legs parted just slightly. "Wider," he instructed, and she did.

He went to the ice bucket, hoping that there was more than just a puddle of former ice cubes left. The ice had held up surprisingly well so he pulled out the biggest cube he could find and let it drip down onto her chest. "Oh, I spilled some." He leaned over and licked the cold water off her breast slowly. His warm tongue circled her nipple before he was finished.

"What are you planning on doing with that?" She tried to close her legs instinctually, but he had put his full weight down on them and she couldn't budge.

"I think you know, doctor." He guided the cube down her body, from her erect breasts over her flat, smooth stomach, and along her private hair line. That's when she started to quiver, the anticipation of what he was about to do washed over her body and caused a small quake. "Just relax," he said, placing a hand on her stomach as if he were holding her down. "It won't take long."

The ice cube slipped down into her hair and slid between her soft lips. She gasped as the cold sensation rose up through her body. House wasn't deterred. He pressed deeper with the ice cube, penetrating the tight fissure between her legs.

The ice was melting quickly. A small trail of cold water trickled down her leg. Cuddy arched her back, willing him to go deeper, curious to know what it would feel like to have the ice penetrate into her. House was more than willing to oblige. He was enjoying watching her body react to his movements, watching her head, eyes closed, tossing from side to side as her body twisted and contorted.

"OH!MY!GOD!" Cuddy couldn't take it anymore. "Oh God! Stop!" She wasn't sure she meant it.

"I'm God now?" He eased up, slipping the ice cube back up her body.

"That's not what I meant."

"It will be." With that, he went down on her. His tongue flitted in and out of her, tickling her clitoris with each flick. He didn't stop until she cried out, calling him God once again. "Do you mean it this time?" He asked teasingly, his finger slipping in and out of her casually.

"Yes, damn you, YES!" She had surrendered. "Now let me go, so I can worship you properly." It actually worked. House got up and untied the shirt sleeves that held her arms in place. She slipped her hands along his rapidly heaving chest tenderly. "Thank you," she said submissively, lulling him into a sense of triumph.

"You're very welcome." He rolled onto his back, waiting for her to return the favor. Instead, she curled up against him and made herself comfortable. "What are you doing?" He craned his neck and looked down at her.

"I'm going to sleep." Her words were breathed onto his bare skin.

"You owe me!" He was wide awake and ready to be taken.

"I don't owe you anything." She was half chuckling.

House stared at the ceiling. He realized he had just been used. No woman had ever used him for sex before. He couldn't help but feel a little proud. The pride, however, was buried under a big pile of frustration. "You owe me oral sex."

"I wouldn't have let you do it if I knew there'd be strings attached." She was circling one of his nipples with the tip of her finger.

"Let me? LET ME? There wasn't anything you could have done to stop me."

"And yet, you stopped." She kissed his chest sweetly.

"I stopped because I got you off. And now you have to get me off." That's how it worked. Didn't she know this?

"Maybe tomorrow." She was sleepy, and he still hadn't said he loved her, so it was really him who owed her, at least in her mind.

"Tomorrow! Maybe!" Those were fighting words.

"Goodnight House." She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek so sweetly that it diffused him. He couldn't force her to do what he wanted. He could tell by her eyes that she didn't want him to. She wanted to win this round and she had.

He let her fall asleep, curled up in his arms, one leg draped over his midsection. He absentmindedly stroked her thigh, breathing in and out slowly, practicing the words he meant to tell her this weekend in his head. He was going to do it, damn it. He was going to say it, and then she would give him everything he wanted. Tomorrow…maybe.


	30. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER THIRTY**

House woke up early the next morning. A sliver of sunlight was peeking through the closed curtains and reflecting off the mirror, right into his eyes. He grumbled a bit about the poor design as he carefully removed her arm from his chest. Cuddy wasn't there. For a split second he thought she'd left him in the night, but then he heard something that told him she wasn't far off.

The delicate sound of her voice grew louder when he opened the door. He cocked his head for a moment, listening; then smirked. She was singing, not terribly, but she was no American Idol. He crept down the hallway silently. Dusty Springfield was backing her up on the radio and the smell of sizzling bacon caught his nostrils.

House leaned in the kitchen doorway, watching. She was wearing his tee shirt, and nothing else. He figured that out when she reached up to get a pair of dishes out of an overhead cabinet. She hadn't noticed him yet and was still singing.

"Believe me, believe me, I can't help but love you. But believe me, I'll never tie you downnnnnnnn." She held the last note, trying to challenge Dusty to break it first.

"That's negotiable, I hope." House was leaning, arms crossed, waiting for her to recognize him.

Cuddy spun around and jumped. "I didn't see you there."

"Obviously." House picked up his cane and hobbled toward her. He reached over and grabbed a strip of bacon off the stove.

"Careful, they're hot."

House burned his tongue. He tried to act tough, but he scrambled to the sink for a glass of water. "No shit!"

Cuddy bit her lip. They were even on the embarrassment scale. "If you can wait a couple more minutes, I'll make you a plate."

House poured out two glasses of milk and brought them to the table. Then he sat down and waited a couple more minutes. Cuddy finished cooking in silence. She finally sat down and put a plate down in front of him.

House sniffed it gratefully. "Nothing satisfies a man like a good, hearty breakfast…except a good, hearty fu…"

"HOUSE!"

"CUDDY!" He imitated her with the expertise of someone who has had great practice at it.

They went back to eating their eggs. Each one of them staring at the other, challengingly.

"Wanna go fishing after breakfast?" House talked through a mouth full of egg.

"You fish?" She would pay money to see that.

"I do if you do."

A couple hours later they were in a small wooden boat in the middle of the lake, bickering.

"We're never going to catch anything if you don't stop talking." House wiggled his pole to catch some wondering fish's attention.

She reeled her line in and pulled a pile of jetsam off the hook. "They really need to dredge the lake and clean some of this out." She made a face as she shook an old, drenched sock out of her hand.

"I'm not having that for dinner." House picked it up with the tips of his fingers and tossed it back into the lake.

"Don't!" Cuddy protested. She sighed when it was clearly too late.

"Oh, did you want to keep it?" House made a snotty face back at her. He was losing patience.

"I was going to throw it out."

"I just did."

"I was going to throw it in the trash. Not back into the lake."

"The trash will just end up back in the lake eventually. I was cutting out the middle man."

Cuddy wrapped her hook around her pole and placed the whole thing along the bottom of the boat.

"You're going to make me do all the work?" House shot her an evil look as he remembered the night before. "Typical."

"You're a grown man House. I'm not MAKING you do anything." She sat and watched him. He was still shaking his fishing pole around, hoping for a bite.

"You want to eat don't you?" House was in martyr mode, and had no interest in getting out of it.

"Yes."

"Then pick up that pole and catch something." House had every intention of NOT sharing whatever he caught with her. Instead he would sit and eat it right in front of her, making a point of how tasty each and every bite was.

Cuddy, however, had no intention of spending another hour not catching anything but old socks and soggy newspapers. "OR….we could go back to the cabin and have sex."

House's face lit up, and then darkened. "You're not going to fool me again." He threw out his line again after having replaced his bait.

"You're turning down sex?" Cuddy was confused.

"I'm turning down sex with you." He wanted it to be clear. It wasn't sex he objected to. It was being used that he didn't want to happen again.

"Really?" Cuddy cocked her head to one side challengingly. "It's so hot out here," she tried a new tactic, pulling her old college sweatshirt up over her head. The tank she was wearing was thin and House could just see the dark pigment of her nipples, not that he was looking.

House cleared his throat quietly. "It is. Maybe you should take more off." House tried to seem disinterested, focusing deeply on the end of his fishing line, but his eyes shifted to her, waiting to see what she would do.

Cuddy glared at him. She was tired of drifting around in the boat catching nothing but junk and wanted to go back to the cabin. He clearly knew that and was being difficult.

"I think you should take something off." She carefully moved toward him as the boat rocked gently.

"Oh no!" House tried to back away but realized that would mean going overboard. "I know where this is going to lead."

Cuddy stopped and looked at him so sweetly his teeth hurt. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not falling for your little tricks again. Get back to your side of the boat." He pointed away from him.

"But I like your side better." She slid her hands along his legs as she continued toward him slowly.

House gulped as he felt her fingers fumble with the button that held up his jeans. He wiggled his fishing rod, hoping for a catch to distract him.

"Why don't you put that away?" She was unzipping his jeans now and he tightened his grip on the pole.

"Because I'm fishing." House forced his mind to think about anything but her fingers gently slipping into his shorts. He cleared his throat. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm tying to seduce you," she said, pulling him out into the fresh air.

"You think I'm just going to give in because you start stroking me…?" He had to take a breath as her fingers glided across his shaft.

"Yes." She knew she could. "You don't think I can?" She was always up for a good challenge.

He was going to have to lie. Who knows, it might lead to something interesting. "Nope."

He didn't think Cuddy was stupid, and she probably knew exactly what he was doing, but she didn't seem to care. Maybe she did feel bad about what she'd done to him last night. She should. House still felt an aching need, despite his fruitful trip to the bathroom. It was just no substitute for her.

House expected her to strike a deal, but she didn't. She was too busy sucking his neck slowly. "You're not going to give me an ultimatum?"

Cuddy stopped what she was doing and looked at him. "Were you expecting one?"

"Well, yeah."

"Do you want one?" Her hand was trapped between their bodies. One finger had enough room to gently rub him up and down softly.

"No." His rode slipped out of his hand and floated off on the lake. He didn't try to stop it. It was his uncles rod, not his.

"Then shut up!" She went down on him, slowly, working her way down his chest, her hands pulling up his shirt so she could kiss his chest sweetly. When her mouth reached its final destination, House tried to act as though he were unaffected. He was trying to stay cool, but having been denied a true release the night before only made him more responsive to her touch.

He erupted much sooner than he would have liked, and cursed his lack of control as she pulled herself up with a self satisfied smile. "That was easy," she teased, wiping her mouth on one of the paper towels they'd brought to wipe their hands.

"I didn't want you to rock the boat too much." That was House's cover story, lame and unbelievable, but enough to protect his ego.

"Right." She wiped him off then zipped him back up again. "Can we go back now?"

"I'm not done fishing." House wasn't going to let her win.

"You lost your rod." Her eyes twinkled with triumph.

"I'll use yours." House gave her a winning smile.

Two sets of brilliant blue eyes flashed down to where Cuddy's pole lay, forsaken. Two bodies lunged in unison toward the pole. One boat began to rock violently in the water.

"Stop!" Cuddy grabbed the sides of the boat and House grabbed the fishing rod.

"I win!" He said triumphantly, holding the rod away from her.

A flash of malevolence crossed her beautiful face. "Oh really?"

House didn't like the look one bit. Nor did he like it when she started rocking the boat even more.

"Don't you dare!" He said threateningly.

"Or what?" She kept rocking. Water was lapping up over the edges of the boat now, dampening their shoes.

House felt the rod in his hand. He imagined what kind of mark it might leave if he took her over his knee and gave her a good thwack or two. He held it out over the side of the rocking boat and let go. They'd be in the water long before he could get her over his knee.

"Good boy." Cuddy stopped rocking the boat and handed him the oars.

"I hate you." House grumbled.

"I love you too," she smiled, hoping that the more he heard it, the more he'd get comfortable with saying it.

"I think you're confused. I said I HATE you."

"I know what you said House. Now row."

House rowed. He called back on his years as a rower in college and made long, full strokes. He was proud of his upper body strength and used this opportunity to show off to her. They were back to shore in no time.


	31. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER THIRTYONE**

Dinner was fish, not fresh caught, but fried up in a nice Cajun rub and served with a vegetable medley. The table was set with candles and flowers. Cuddy wanted the night to be special. They were going back tomorrow and he still hadn't said he loved her.

She kept trying to tell herself it didn't matter, that she was too old for such school girl behavior, but she wanted him to say it. It was stupid, and she wanted it anyway. So she put on a sexy dress and did her hair in loose curls, which he once told her he liked, and put on just a hint of perfume and makeup, enough to entice without looking like she was trying too hard. Then she looked in the mirror and sighed.

House was going to see right through her. He would tease her about it, make her regret ever coming here with him. She started to undress. They were in the wilderness, she shouldn't have even brought the dress. It was new, low cut and a deep garnet color. She didn't own anything else in that color, but it had caught her eye when she went to Saks just a week ago. She was saving it for the spring benefit she would be hosting in a few weeks but for some reason she had brought it here.

House came out of the bathroom before she could get the dress off. He walked over and zipped it back up. "You look amazing," he said, looking at her through the mirror as he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck gently.

"Thank you," she said genuinely, glad, now that she had brought the dress.

"Shall we?" House had dressed up a little as well, and he had shaved. Cuddy hadn't seen him fresh faced in…she couldn't remember when. She stared at his face in the mirror, trying to process the change.

"What do you think?" House asked her. He looked uncomfortable.

"It's…not you." She didn't know what to say. House didn't respond well to polite lies.

"You hate it." House's face fell.

"No. I…" she turned in his arms and ran a hand along his bare cheek. "I appreciate the effort." She tilted her head up and kissed him gently.

"Well, I can guarantee it won't happen again." He was slightly hurt, but also relieved. She passed another of his little tests.

"Good." She smiled and took him by the hand. "I'm hungry. Let's go eat."

House paused for a moment when he saw the beautifully laid table.

"You just sit down here, pour us some wine, and I'll be right back." She had to put the finishing touches on dinner, and prayed she hadn't burned anything because she couldn't decide on what to wear.

The kitchen smelled wonderful and after a few minutes of fussing, she brought out their food. House was standing by the fireplace, staring into the flames. He was holding a half empty glass of wine in his hand.

"Dinner's ready," she called over to him, feeling more domestic than she thought she should.

"I'll be right there." He was deep in thought. He had to pull himself from the warmth of the fire, but he was glad he did as the smell of fried fish hit his nostrils. "It smells good."

"It is good." It was trying to impress him and had pulled out all the stops.

"Well then, let's eat!" House cut into the fish and put a large piece on his plate. He put a smaller one on hers. He smiled at her like a child, far too proud of himself.

A silence fell between them as they enjoyed their meal. House took breaks to look up at her across the candlelight, but looked back at his food whenever she showed a sign of returning his gaze. As soon as his head dropped, Cuddy looked up at him then back at her dish.

"We go back tomorrow," she said half heartedly.

"Bet you can't wait to get away from me," House half joked.

"I had a nice time."

"Just nice?" House was disappointed.

"I had a wonderful time, House." Cuddy was being cautious. She didn't want to say or do the wrong thing.

"Good." House nodded his head once firmly.

"Did you?" She was slightly afraid of what his answer might be, but she had to ask.

"Have a _wonderful_ time?" House was mocking her, slightly. He saw her recoil slightly. "Yes."

"Our month is almost up."

"What?" House was actually ignorant, for a moment, then it dawned on him what she meant and he almost choked on a piece of broccoli.

"The experiment, our experiment?" She pushed a pea around with her fork. She didn't dare look at him or he would see hope written all over her face.

"So, what do we do now?" He wished she hadn't brought it up.

"I'm open to suggestions." She didn't know what she wanted. She needed someone she could talk to. But all her friends thought she was crazy to want to be with Gregory House, and Wilson would do anything to try to 'fix' House, even if it wasn't the best thing for her. Her parents hated House so she just didn't talk to them about him at all.

She felt so alone. She couldn't talk to House about it without taking a huge risk. She had played out the possibilities in her mind over and over during many sleepless nights. She lay staring at the ceiling, imaging a fight so bitter that they never spoke to one another again. She imagined having to fire House, how empty the hospital would seem without him.

It was much more difficult to imagine their relationship working. She couldn't picture House living in her house, or her living in his apartment. She couldn't imagine him fathering her children, or attending family functions or friends dinner parties. She couldn't seem to merge the man across the table from her with her childhood version of the man she would marry.

She had always imagined finding a man just like her father, a warm, jovial man dedicated to his family, to helping people, to charity. That wasn't House. House was…aggravating, misanthropic, complex, challenging.

"You could dress up as a peasant girl, and I will be the evil tyrant who forces you to feed me grapes and rub my feet and service my every need."

Cuddy was snapped out of her revere. "What?"

"I think we should give it another month."

"Really?" She tried not to sound too hopeful.

"We haven't had enough sex yet."

Cuddy tossed a pea at him.

"Sexual compatibility is very important in a relationship. Even if everything else was perfect, and we both know this is far from perfect, it can all fall apart if we are not sexually compatible."

"We are sexually compatible House. That was never the problem."

"What was the problem then?" It was bound to come out eventually.

"You know what the problem was."

"If I knew, I wouldn't have to ask."

"We were young…"

"And stupid." He remembered the look on her face when she'd walked in on him and Sarah.

"And stupid. And I don't think either of us was ready for a real relationship." She hadn't been ready.

"And in the twenty years that followed?" There had been plenty of chances for them to try to have a relationship. So why hadn't they?

"I didn't think you were interested." She didn't really have an answer, so that was as good as anything.

"Oh come on!" House protested. "You can't be that oblivious. All the flirting…"

"You sexually harass me House, on a daily basis."

"That's me flirting."

"No wonder you've only had one steady girlfriend."

"Your record is not much better. You were with Jack for what, three weeks?"

"Yes. I believe it took you three weeks to drive him away."

"Before that was Barry." House cringed. "How could you possibly call that name out in the heat of the moment?" House mimicked her voice, "Oh Berry, you're sooo big."

"Shut up!"

"I had nothing to do with you dumping that tool."

"No. It was his wife who had something to do with me dumping him."

"Rick the Dick…"

"Was a nice guy!"

"I told him I'd seen you naked and he ran. Couldn't handle the completion obviously." House stuck his chest out proudly.

"You told him WHAT?"

"I told him the truth. He couldn't handle it."

"I'm sure it was HOW you said it."

"That was years ago. Get over it."

"I am over it."

"And under me." It was a questioning statement.

"You wish!"

"I know." He had a hidden weapon. He wasn't ready to use it yet, but when the time was right, he would. He knew that now. He was ready. "Care to make a bet?" House was always up for a bet.

Cuddy studied him carefully. He was too cocky. "Not a chance."

"Because you know you can't resist me."

"Because I know you're up to something." She started to clear their empty dishes. She could hear House getting up and following her, the familiar thump of his cane entered the kitchen as she put the dishes in the sink.

"You think I drugged you?" He wished he had thought of it sooner.

"I wouldn't put it past you." She turned on the water and began rinsing off the dishes.

"You really think I'd do that?" House slipped an arm through hers and pulled the plate out of her hand. He dropped it into the sink and water splashed up.

Cuddy turned to face him. "I don't know what you'd do, House." She saw the honesty in his face. "That's one of the things I like about you."

"What else do you like about me?" He often thought there was nothing about him worth liking.

"You want me to stroke your ego?"

House grinned slowly. "I've never heard it called that before." He took her hand by the wrist and slowly slipped it between them.

Cuddy tried not to laugh. "I like that you don't play nice…or fair." She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and yanked him toward her. "When you want something, you go after it and you don't let anything stop you. When you think something is right, you won't listen to anyone who tries to convince you it's wrong. You challenge me every day."

"And that's a good thing?"

"That's a great thing." She pulled him into a kiss, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

House took a moment, after she pulled away, to reminisce about the taste of her tongue in his mouth and the warmth of her lips against his. It was a long moment that lasted only seconds. "Do you want to know what I like about you?"

She was afraid to say yes, afraid he would bring up her ass, or her breasts or the way he was always able to get what he wanted out of her. "Will I regret saying yes?"

"Probably." He was holding her tightly in his arms. He liked how it felt.

"Tell me anyway." Her curiosity was getting the better of her.

House had to fight the urge to cover his true feelings with a snide remark. It wasn't easy, and he had to look down her shirt to find the courage. It wasn't necessarily that it was her shirt he was looking down, he just had to find courage anywhere but in her eyes. One look in those baby blues and he wouldn't be able to say a thing.

"I like that, after all these years…" he couldn't get the words he wanted to pass his lips. "After everything I've done and said to you, you're still here. Why are you still here?"

"Because I love you House." It was getting easier and easier to say.

"Why?" It was something he had a hard time with. He didn't consider himself lovable. He had never thought of himself as loveable. He was cruel and abrasive and a bastard. He needed a reason.

"I ask myself that every day." She sighed. Love didn't come with a list of reasons.

"That's not an answer."

"It's the best I can do."

House ran a hand along her back. He liked the gentle arc and the way he could feel her muscles beneath her skin. She was strong, but soft. "I could do better."

"Go right ahead." She was leaning against the counter now, content to stand in his arms despite the feeling of the hard edge digging into the spot just below her back.

He felt like he would die if he kept going, but he knew he could lose her if he didn't finally open up to her and tell her how he felt. It had to be done, and it had to be done now, before he had a chance to reason his way out of it. "I don't deserve…" she was about to stop him, but he held up his hands to stop her instead. "I don't deserve to be loved by anyone, least of all you. I treat you like shit, I humiliate you in front of your staff, I constantly push you away and I don't do a damned thing you tell me to do. Anyone else would have given up on me long ago. Anyone else never would have taken a chance on me in the first place. But you did. You see something in me that I will never see in myself. That makes you naïve and stupid but it also makes me wonder if I could ever be half the man you think I am. So I love you, for thinking I could be that person and I hate you because you are a constant reminder that I will never be the man you want me to be."

Cuddy was crying as she stared into his eyes. He had never been this open with her before and it frightened her. "You are that man House." It broke her heart that he couldn't see that. "I don't want you to be anyone other than who you are. I just want you to be…happy."

"But I'm not happy. I'm never going to be happy. If you want me, you're going to have to settle for miserable, and you shouldn't have to settle." He loved her too much to make her settle for that.

She bit her lip. "If I have to settle for miserable to be with you, then I will settle for miserable." It was a decision she had wrestled with for years and she finally accepted the truth. She knew a life with House wasn't going to be roses and sunshine. She knew it wasn't going to be the life she had dreamed of as a girl. She was going to have to give up some of the things she'd wanted, like children, dinner parties with friends, certain physical activities he was incapable of, but she could get over it. She had to. She wanted House in her life. It had all become so simple.

"But WHY?" He didn't understand it. He needed a reason, a logical, definitive reason why she would want to be with a miserable jerk like him.

"Because I love you."

"But WHY?" If his intention was to drive her away, he was going to have to try a lot harder than that.

"I DON'T KNOW! Believe me, if I could change it, I would. My life would be a lot easier if I didn't love you, and no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to make me hate you, I can't. So please House, do us both a favor and just accept it. Don't question it, don't try to pull it apart, just accept that I love you for no good reason."

"That makes no sense."

"It's love House. It doesn't have to make sense."

"I don't deal well with things that don't make sense."

"I know you don't."

"But I can try." He smiled cautiously.

"That's a start." She kissed him to stop him from saying anything else. She wanted to end on a high note, not give him enough rope to hang himself with.

House was appreciative. He knew what she was doing, and didn't try to stop her. Instead he leaned into her kiss, letting it wash over him. The fear was not gone, but she had given him hope that maybe this was one good thing in his life that he wouldn't completely screw up. He had a feeling she wasn't going to let him screw it up, and he couldn't love her more for that.


End file.
